Usually around mid-week the Mister and I coordinate our schedules to make sure there are no surprises when the weekend hits. But even with that effort there usually is something that one or the other forgot to relay, so the phone call ends up with each of us trying to recount every conversation over the past week to see if the other really, truly told us the event they just “sprung”, or if they have just merely convinced themselves that they shared it.
Yesterday we were chatting and he’s all, “What’s going on the 25th? I have this big red box drawn around the day, but I can’t think of anything we have going on.” I sat there for a second, wondering if I should really answer. Was this a test of my vanity?
Finally, I asked, “Are you serious?” He’s all, “Yeah, I know you’re leaving for Blissdom the next day, but I can’t figure out if I drew that box to remind me to get ready for your trip, or what it means.”
“Well, the 25th is my birthday…”
A mixture of uncomfortable laughter and silence on his end, followed by, “No there must be something else.”
Long silence again.
“You know this doesn’t count because I can’t technically forget your birthday before it even happens.”
“Dude, I think you just did. If it makes you feel any better I called Boggie our dog’s name three times during Little Gym today.”
So I ask you, dear reader
s, how likely is it that our baby is actually a brain eating zombie who is feeding while we sleep? I ask because I am pretty sure we used to remember these things before she was born, therefore she be responsible in some way for the forgetfulness. Once you have established that, the only logical conclusion that can be drawn is zombies, because when it has to do with brains it can always be traced back to zombies.
Therefore, she must be a zombie and just really good at hiding it.