It's April Fool's Day, so I'll be watching my back. Number Two Son has played some devious pranks in the past.
Like the time he put a rubber band around the trigger of the hand-held spray thingie on the kitchen sink. The idea was that somebody would turn on the faucet and get nailed by the spray.
Cute idea, right? And it worked beautifully. When my husband went to fill the coffeemaker and let out a shocked exclamation, I looked up from the garden section of my Sunday paper and understood immediately what our rascally kid had done.
Hey, you would have laughed, too. It was funny.
But laughing was a mistake, because it convinced my husband that I had been the prankster. He chased me all over the kitchen with the sprayer and gave me a good soaking.
"Would you stop!" I squealed, leaping over a chair and pointing at our younger son, who had just materialized from his hiding place around the corner. "He did it!"
The kid couldn't believe his good fortune. He'd managed to get both parents with just one trick! He nearly blew a gasket laughing.
"Good, one, Mom!" he crowed, cementing my guilt in his father's eyes. "You really got him, didn't you?"
People, if you're ever accused of a crime and find yourself facing trial, remember to tell your attorneys during jury selection that the softspoken, bespectacled, friendly-looking architect in the back row will not be on your side, I don't care how slender a thread the prosecution's case is hanging by. My very own hunk o' burnin' love simply could not be convinced that I had been neither the perpetrator of nor an accessory to the crime.
Even now, some six or seven years later, he doubts my complete innocence. But I put the blame for my suffering squarely where it belongs. And every year when April Fool's Day rolls around, I look at my beloved second-born and think, Payback time, you rascal.
I just hope I can think of something bad enough to do to him today. Any suggestions?