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Sunday, July 22, 2012

Life's Little Joke

It may not surprise anyone to learn my wife and I love making babies. In fact, if a few things were different, for example if I was closer to Tracey's age, we'd probably have kept going and made ten. After all, everything is metric these days.

Only a few months ago, Tracey was cuddling a baby when she looked up at me and gave me that look.

"Oh, I'm feeling clucky," she cood at me.

"You can't feel clucky when you're holding your own baby, Tracey," I told her. "That just doesn't make sense." Although to be honest I have no evidence either way. Still I persevered. "It's like seeing your own Ferrari parked in your driveway and thinking, 'Oh, I want a Ferrari'."

"Well, maybe I want two cars."

"Or in this case, eight," I reminded her. "You really want eight Ferraris? They cost a lot to maintain, you know."

It's fun to joke, isn't it? Well life decided to join in the laugh today.

"I'm sooooo tired," Tracey told me this afternoon. "I'm going to bed straight after dinner."

"You went to bed early last night too," I reminded her. "You slept for twelve hours. Are you sick?"

"No, just tired." 

We looked at each other. 

"You don't think..." I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Tracey's bottom jaw dropped and her expression changed to one I suspect would be more suited to defendant who's just lost a case for manslaughter and realizes they won't be eating fast food for a long, long time. Then her face changed again as her thoughts went to a calmer place.  "Not possible," she said confidently. "You're neutered. I'm back at work. My photography business is starting to take off. I have a brain again. I mean, what are the chances we'd fall just as things are coming good?"

I pointed to the five month old in her arms. "About the same as last time." When we conceived Miss0 I'd had a vasectomy, Tracey started her photography business and we were done. In fact we didn't plan any of the last four - we would never be asked to speak at a family planning convention. 

I shouldn't have said anything. Suddenly my wife was back on death row. "Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

"No, you're right. It's not possible," I said. But if wishes were horses we'd have a herd of Ferraris in the driveway.

Tracey quickly summed up the situation. "Shit," she said. Then her face brightened again. "Maybe I've got glandular fever," she suggested. "Or Ross River or something like that."

"Jeez, I hope so," I said eagerly.

A quick sprint to the local shops and a gallon of water later, I was pacing outside our bathroom waiting for the result.

"Anything?" I called through the door.

"Not yet," said Tracey. "Don't rush me."

"And don't you mess with me," I told her. "I want a straight answer. I can take it," I lied.

A few minutes later we had our answer. Tracey flung open the door and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Congratulations!" she yelled. "I must be sick."

Well, thank goodness for that.




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3 comments:

Emma said...

I have to Say Bruce, I was RIVETED reading that! lol Get better soon Tracey! :D

Kez said...

Oh my goodness, you really had me scared for you guys for most of that post!! Great writing - very suspenseful haha.
Hope Tracey gets better soon! Got lots of children to look after!!!

Bruce Devereaux said...

If you thought it was suspenseful on paper!! You could cut the tension with a knife over here :)

About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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