Four Catholic men and a Catholic woman were having coffee in St. Peters Square. The first Catholic man tells his friends, "My son is a priest, when he walks into a room, everyone calls him 'Father'."

Four Catholic men and a Catholic woman were having coffee in St. Peter’s Square.

The first Catholic man proudly tells his friends,
"My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him 'Father'."

The second man chimes in,
"Well, my son is a bishop. When he walks into a room, people say 'Your Excellency'."

The third one lifts his coffee cup and says,
"That's impressive, but my son is a cardinal. People greet him with 'Your Eminence'."

The fourth man smiles smugly and says,
"That's cute. My son is the Pope. When he enters the room, people fall to their knees and say, 'Your Holiness'."

They all look proudly at each other, sipping their cappuccinos with the satisfaction of fathers whose sons have truly made it.

The Catholic woman, quietly sipping her espresso, raises an eyebrow and calmly says:
"Well, I have a daughter."

The men all pause and glance over at her. She leans in, a sly smile forming.
"When she walks into a room, every man gasps, every woman whispers, and everyone says..."

'Oh. My. God.'

The men go silent for a second—then one spills his coffee laughing, another drops his biscotti, and the Pope’s dad mutters,
“And here I thought we were winning.”