Scene: A handsome man takes his sweet little toddler daughters out for a few hours so his beloved wife can clean their home in peace. How nice of him! Or so we think at first...
Lucy: Be safe! I love you
Joey: Okay. I was planning on driving recklessly and trying to get into an accident, but since you insist...fine. We'll be safe.
*mutual eye roll*
Lucy: *Cleans and does laundry in blissful solitude for several hours!*
Joey: Hi. *long pause*
Lucy: What's wrong, babe?
Joey: Well, you know how you said to be safe and I kind of made fun of you...?
Kitchen: *spins icily around Lucy*
Joey: Well...it was all so fast...everyone's okay, but...APRIL FOOLS!
Lucy: You're an ass. A big, smelly, hairy ass. You know that? AND FURTHERMORE...
Lucy's Words: *take on a decidedly unrefined quality and seem to imply a cessation of certain marital obligations*
Joey: You're on speaker phone, babe.
Lucy: I stand by what I said.
Lucy's Face: *turns all possible shades of red*
Joey: Just kidding, you're not on speaker phone. APRIL FOOLS AGAIN!
Lucy: Don't think I'm going to forget this, come next April first. DON'T THINK THAT FOR A MINUTE, MISTER! It's on.
Joey: I love you?
Lucy: Yeah, whatever. Just watch your back. If you can't find it, just look on the couch, because that's where you'll be sleeping for the next year.
P.S. In five years of marriage, though, I have never ONCE managed to make him sleep on the couch when I'm mad at him. NEVER. He just won't leave! Is this just a false cliche spread around by the media, or do all of your husbands obediently troop on out of the bedroom when you say so? I think it must be the media thing. Whenever I try that he just tells me that if I'm so mad I can go sleep on the couch. Which is okay, really, because if he actually did go sleep on the couch I would miss him and then I'd have to go tell him I'm sorry and ask him to come back to bed. But still. It's the principle of the thing. You're totally outraged on my behalf, right? Help me think of horrible, diabolical ways to get him back next April Fools, because I suck at pranking people.
P.P.S If all that doesn't incite you to rise up against my husband with torches and pitchforks and holy wrath, I ought to add that he went to see Hunger Games with me last night and hated Peeta. I rest my case.