Earlier this week Ginger Girl & I were talking about pink dolphins. Hubby asked if they're like the crocodiles that live in the lake near us. "No, these things actually exist." He is obviously still butt hurt over falling for my claims of the miniature breed of crocodiles that were raised in that lake and can't be moved back to Florida because they'll die if taken out of the lake environment they've become accustomed to. He claims he didn't believe me for long, but I call 2 hours long.
I think his not believing the pink dolphins are actually pink may have just a wee bit to do with the very few times I've told him that the white shirt is actually pink or the brown is light green. He's not only blind with love, he's also color blind. Yeah, that was a rather cheesy, gross line, but I couldn't resist.
|"Yes, Mr. Eddi, we really are pink.|
You can believe her this time."
Amazing Grace has perfected the same smirk, searching for a tell-tall crack of a smile or too steady of eye contact to give me away, face that hubby gives me. These family members of mine are frustrating me. I miss the days when they didn't know about Google.
7 years ago I made what the kids call Starburst Pot Pies. While the kids were at school I made pie crust for individual pot pies. I cut up banana to look like shredded chicken. I shaped melted Starbursts into chopped carrots & potatoes & round peas. I mixed butterscotch and banana pudding to get a gravy-colored pudding. I mixed it all up, poured it into the little pies, & sealed them shut. I made a goofy drink & dessert that was actually meat & vegetables, but what they remember the most is the Starburst Pot Pies.
I thought about making a silly dinner yesterday, but then I knew the kids wouldn't fall for it because they all knew what day it was. I thought about soaping up the windows on hubby's, Amazing Grace's, & Boy Teenager's cars, but I knew I'd never get to sneak out of the house after everyone was in bed without getting caught. I thought about putting clear nail polish on the soap bar & plastic wrap over all the bottles in the shower, but I hated the idea of water being wasted while they fumbled around with items they couldn't get to work properly. I thought about putting googly eyes on all the food in the fridge but then I pictured it in my mind & it totally creeped me out. I don't want/need my food looking at me, openly judging me, watching my every move as I make my food choices. Also, food in the fridge shouldn't have eyes.
|Stop judging me, Googly Eyes.|
So I did nothing.
That was my joke for the day because I knew they would be expecting something from me.
Kids came home from school, peeking around corners before entering rooms, quickly opening closet doors or pulling back blankets & jumping back just in case, watching me with the wary look of children whose Mother is very clever & sneaky.
Finally one of the kids said, "I know, the joke will be at dinner." Another child: "You made Starburst Pot Pie for dinner!" Excitement from other children.
After I told the kids that there was no way I'd get away with another joke dinner on April first, they informed me that I have their permission to redo April Fool's Day on any day I want. Just so long as I make a joke dinner.
They never said I couldn't get them in other ways on the Redo April Fool's Day. They'll have to decide if the joke dinner--aka dessert disguised as dinner, dinner for dessert--is worth it to put up with the rest I may come up with.