A man lies on his deathbed, surrounded by his weeping wife and their four children. Three of the children are tall, handsome, and athletic, but the fourth and youngest is an ugly runt.
"Darling," the husband whispers, "assure me that the youngest child really is mine. I want to know the truth before I die. I'll forgive you if..."
His wife gently interrupts him. "Yes, my dearest. Absolutely. No question. I swear on my mother's grave that you are his father."
The man then dies happy. The wife mutters under her breath, "Thank God he didn't ask about the other three."