My wife is about to have our second child, and we're very happy because we were told we couldn't have kids. By our landlord.

In this stand-up style one-liner, Kiley sets up a sentimental premise—expecting a second child after being told they “couldn’t have kids”—then undercuts it with an absurdly mundane authority figure: the landlord. The humor hinges on misdirection and category error: infertility is a medical matter, but the landlord’s “diagnosis” is really a prohibition (no-children rental policy) masquerading as fate. The joke also satirizes how much power landlords can seem to have over tenants’ lives, turning a housing rule into a pronouncement about family and possibility. The final fragment, “By our landlord,” delivers the twist with deadpan precision.