That would be my son, Jeff.

Here I sit, serenely writing, and he bursts into the room.  The conversation goes something like this:

Jeff: “MOM! Hot Rod got the cat!”

Me: “What?!?!?!!?”

Jeff: “Hot Rod! He got the cat.”

Me: (springing out of my chair, wondering how I will ever explain this to Andy): “He didn’t!”

Jeff: “He did!”

Me: “Oh my God he didn’t!”

Jeff: “No, he didn’t. April Fool’s.”

Damn.

I deserve that.  On April 1, 1962 I made my First Communion.  Mom was having a big party of course.  It was lift-off – she was in the kitchen doing last minute preparations before going to the church, and I called her from the living room, in distress.  “Mom!  Daisy (our beagle) pooped in the living room!”  She came tearing out of the kitchen much in the same emotional state that I was in five minutes ago.

Little First Holy Communion girl in her white dress and veil and wrist corsage: “April Fool’s”

Both were pretty darn good ones if you ask me!