I had every intention of playing a bunch of April Fools’ jokes on Husband and the boys today. I was going to steal all the underwear out of Husband’s drawers (dresser drawers, that is) so when he got out of the shower he’d be mystified as to why there was no underwear waiting for him when I’d just done laundry. I was going to steal the right foot of all my kids’ shoes and hide them somewhere. I was going to add a little vinegar to their milk so it turned into buttermilk when they went for that swig.
And then, when I tried to find Husband’s underwear, it wasn’t in his drawer, because it was, instead, strewn all over the floor of our bedroom, because he’d never put it away after laundry day (I would’ve had to embark on a treasure hunt to find them all, and, unfortunately, I didn’t have the time for that). And when I thought about trying to locate all the right feet of my kids’ shoes I felt too tired already (and they probably wouldn’t even notice the joke, since they lose their shoes every morning). And the boys didn’t want milk this morning. They wanted water.
And, also, the 4-year-old twins were up at 4:45 a.m., shrieking like banshees—which was good, because it alerted us to the fact that there were unmanned terrors loose who were looking for anything else they could throw down the potty. I lost all hope of winning April Fools’ Day after that, because, clearly, they took the trophy and the cake.
But Husband did start his own dancing web site and let people know that expressing his creativity through dance is now his new dream and passion—a joke which, by extension of the whole two-becoming-one thing, means I did pretty well for April Fools’ Day.
Doesn’t top the year we told everyone that the boy we were expecting was really a girl, but, hey. You can’t win them all.
The twins can, though. Don’t ever forget that.
