There are few things I love better than a good practical joke. The husband is one of those few things that I do love better. I love him. A lot. And, I love a good practical joke, too. A lot. Live for them. At least, I used to live for those no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners jokes.When the husband and I were in the beginning years of our happily ever after, there was a couple that we were BFFs with. We like to call them the Kellys. Because that was their last name. So we called them that. Still do.The Kellys lived a couple floors up from us at Wymount Terrace, also known as Utopia. Our phone numbers were virtually the same. People would often mistakenly call our apartment looking for the Kellys. And sometimes people would mistakenly call the Kellys' apartment looking for us. And sometimes, if the caller was lucky, we would hand the phone to the Kellys- because they could be found at our place. Sometimes. Or we could be found at theirs'. The Kellys were our kind of folks. The kind that enjoyed a good practical joke. And we took a fancy to them. And we would often have practical joke showdowns. Really creative practical jokers were they. And it challenged us. In ways that we had never been challenged before. I believe they helped to mold us into the stellar individuals we are today.There were some evenings the husband and I would lie awake hatching brilliant plans for practical joke supremacy. And we would go to sleep smiling. And the Kellys had no idea.Sunday evening as the husband and I sat and chatted about the events of the day, I was inspired with a brilliant plan. Immediately I acted on that inspiration. And I was as giddy as a school girl. Because practical jokes make me giddy- especially a brilliant practical joke. And after the practical joke was completed, I felt like I had just reunited with a dear, long lost friend. And I loved getting reacquainted- like no time had passed between us. I smiled, and told the husband as much. And he chuckled. Because he thinks I am crazy sometimes.I had just spent a few moments hacking into my cute little sister's blog and posting a funny little post.She is 40 months pregnant with her first child- a tiny pink bundle that should just about be cooked to a beautiful golden brown perfection- which she has been anxiously awaiting. The nursery is ready- bedding bought and crib made. All ready for a little sugar and spice and everything nice. Little sister has always dreamed of being a mother. She is a born mother- so natural with children. And she has always wanted a girl more than anything. She is thrilled to be having a girl, but has a little anxiety that she may have gotten the recipe wrong and this little one could turn out to be a boy. To make matters worse, a mystical Indian warrior customer at her bank told her to expect a son. To which she laughed, but couldn't completely discount the fortune teller. Worrying that he might be on to something. Let me tell you the secret of a seasoned practical joker: he or she looks for opportunity in all things. Who could resist this perfect set-up? Not I.So, I proceeded to post the following on my little sister's blog.April Fool's?
So, this will be a short post just to let you know that someone played a cruel little April Fool's joke on us. Remember how I was pregnant? Did you catch that? I said "was". Well, we had a cute little baby boy today at 9:07 pm. Did you catch that? I said "baby boy". Remember how we were supposed to have a girl? Well, we got ourselves a beautiful little boy. And he is beautiful. But that is a silly little April Fool's Joke to play on a girl when she thought she was having a girl.
More details to follow... sooner than expected people, hello!
I had included a small clue at the bottom, so that if she read carefully, she would know who was responsible- because I have become a little soft in my old age. And then I folded up my laptop, satisfied with my latest deed and went to sleep with a smile on my face. And little sis had no idea. Not yet, at least.
In the morning I woke up. With a terrible case of Practical Joker's Remorse, more commonly known as PJR. Like I have never felt before. It was terrible.
I checked in on little sis's blog and started reading the comments. And I realized that my joke was lost on her readers who now believed the yarn that I had spun. And they were offering blue clothes and congratulations. This thing I had not considered. I was just hoping to freak out the sis and stir up the pot a little. Instead, her friends were believing her to be in the hospital with a little boy. (duh, why wouldn't they? Obviously I was a little rusty.)
Uh-oh. What to do? What to do? I immediately felt the need to atone for this poorly thought-out joke.
And so, I posted this:
here is a picture of our new bundle.
enjoy.
one question: what to do with that hair?
After posting this, I felt I had provided sufficient clues that the previous post was rubbish.
I then fielded a few calls from family members. And we may have swapped a few giggles. And then I took little son to his friend's house. Satisfied that I was on my way to a full recovery from PJR.
And now, I am off to bed. With a smile on my face.
