Fakeouts and Flinstones

B. has the ultimate trump card when it comes to pranks.

It's right below her rib cage.


Now folks, the two of us have talked about kids and family plans and our futures, and we've agreed that right now it's not in the cards.  We're still in college, and we want our own futures to be a little more secure, we want to be a little more ready to provide before we consider introducing a new life into the world.  We're both on the same page with what we want and if/when we want kids, but as we tease each other about it, there is an unspoken war, a dance of wills that emerges whenever the subject comes up:


We got home after work one afternoon.  B. had picked up a few things from the store that day.  She plopped the plastic bag on the counter and went to scavenge the fridge.  I spotted inside the bag a small bottle of - pills?  Vitamins.  We had a plenitude of different multivitamins so adding more to the mix left me naturally puzzled.  I asked what they were, she turned, smiling wryly as she plucked them from the bag.  She tossed the bottle to me and said, "What do you think?"

I looked down at the label.


Prenatal Vitamin Supplements.




...


wait...

"...uh... Wait..."


Her grin grew wider.


"Are... are you..."


"What do you think?" she repeated, refusing to budge.


Now listen people, B. is a natural prankster and has been known to fake-out on this sort of thing before.  Could she be trusted?  Was this really happening?  Was she sure?  Her smile was from ear to ear, could we really be expecting?

I didn't know what to say.  What was I going to do?  Call her bluff?  What if she really was?  My first words as a father would be "Yeah, right."

I would not start my paternal career with sarcasm.  I stuttered a little bit more, she just stared, eyes fixed on me and her smile never wavering.

Beginning to accept the idea that I could be a daddy, I abandoned any sort of verbal escapism or clever wordplay to make her admit one way or the other.  Heart in my throat, I took her face in my hands and sweetly kissed the forehead of the woman who would/could/might bear our child.

"Omigoshimnotpregnantimjustkidding!" she blurted out instantly in a panicked apology.

I just froze.  She claims that my hands wrapped around her head started to tighten a little bit before letting go.

Apparently she had heard that prenatal vitamins promote hair growth, she's trying to grow her hair out, so the pills would expedite the process.  I should have known.



We learned a lot about each other that day.  I learned that I married the ultimate prankster and that my wife can sell a lie for a lot longer than I can.  She learned that I know nothing about vitamins.  I learned that if she was really going to tell me that we were starting a family, she wouldn't tell me in such a mundane way.  She also told me that it would take about 8 different pregnancy tests, 2 doctor visits and a second and possibly third opinion before she was convinced it was happening herself.



Or so I thought.

Until last week, when we were meandering around Barnes and Noble, killing time before B. went to work.  Fortunately the ornithological research books are right across from the illustration and digital painting manuals.  We stood side by side, perusing our respective literature when I caught her staring at me with a doe-eyed grin.  But it wasn't that that caught me off guard.

She was also tracing her navel absent-mindedly with her finger.

The same mind-dance happened all over again.  Are you?  What do you think?  My off-handed humorous skepticism was quickly drowned out by genuine, concerned interrogation, until at last she admitted that no, the oven was bunless. She had just been thinking about it, about what a great dad I'd be, about how great our kid would look someday.  Again, we're not planning any additions to the Bugg home soon, but it's not like we'd ever regret a family.

I thought I had learned my lesson, but she still gets me every time.  But this is a subject about which I'm ok with being gullible.  I'd rather be fooled a thousand times than risk laughing in the face of my pregnant wife, the mother of my unborn firstborn, denying what I had done to her.

I refuse to let my first fatherly words be, "Ha!  No, you're not!"


But I think I'll stick to Flinstones chewables.




What are your favorite fakeouts?





S