Joke's On Me

When I woke up this morning, I heard rumblings of April Fool's pranks in the works downstairs from the peanut gallery. So Michael and I quickly deliberated upstairs to devise our little joke of the day. And in the time it took for me to brush my teeth, I was suddenly 3 months pregnant with our fifth child.

I went downstairs and told the kids I had something important to tell them.

"We sold our house?" "Did we get the house?" "Are we in escrow?" "Are we not moving?" Okay...so apparently our four month battle to purchase a home in short sale has taken its toll on the kids, too.

"It does have to do with the house," I said. "Part of the reason we're trying to move to a bigger house is because we need a bit more room for the baby in my tummy!"

They flocked to me instantly with cooing smiles and sighs. Alex had joyful tears in her eyes. Gavin gently touched my stomach with a huge grin on his face. Blake beeegged to share his room with this new imaginary baby.

I was heartbroken.

I had no idea they would welcome this concocted addition who would force them to share their rooms and toys and parents. Does this mean they all really like each other and are having a jolly old time in our family party? For a fleeting moment I scrambled for a way that I could insert a three-month-old fetus into my body right this instant so I didn't have to fess up to this not very funny "joke." Could I? Could I have FIVE kids?

Reality sunk in, and I begrudgingly reminded the kids that the doctors had put the kabosh on future child-bearing endeavors; and that today, the only joke was my tasteless sense of humor. They turned back to their cereal, and life moved on. And I've spent the rest of the morning chasing away imaginary additions while eating like a pregnant girl.