Foolishness

Let me explain something about April Fools' Day. Everybody knows that pranks fall into two categories: stunts and lies. Stunts are usually dumb ideas that disguise themselves as brilliant ideas. When I was nine, saran-wrapping the toilet seat was a brilliant idea...until the next morning when I got to clean up a family member's 3:00 AM movement. With any stunt, though, if it's funny, legal, and doesn't hurt anyone or permanently damage anything, ultimately it will be worth it.

I think that's pretty universally understood, at least by people who aren't sociopaths. The April Fools' Day lie, however, is an art form routinely massacred by otherwise sensible people. Besides the obvious importance of not lying about anything fatal, there is one major rule, and feel free to write it down. At the end of it all, there must be a net gain in the victim's mood.

For instance, at age 10 I told my parents I was failing math. I even presented them a phony note from my teacher (who miraculously agreed to play along) that testified to the graveness of my mathematical ineptitude. They reacted as expected. One paced the room while the other sat on the bed, head in hands. Then I shouted the punchline: April Fools! It was epic.

It worked because when I said April Fools, they immediately felt a lot better about life. The net gain in mood was palpably positive.

Now is where I become the April Fools' Day spoilsport, for surely you have predicted that ultimately this post is about a prank where I was the victim. This afternoon Julie told me that on the way home from work, since she was still feeling traces of illness, she stopped by Walgreens for a pregnancy test.

When she said it was positive, I almost had to pull the car over. And minutes later when she said April Fools, it was an awful, gut-wrenching moment.

So clearly I'm a person who can dish it out but can't take it. And clearly I'm ready for a second baby.