When I was growing up, April Fool's day was fun. We were always pranking one another. It would continue until the next day when one of us would say, "April Fool's is past, and you're the biggest fool at last."
Yesterday morning I hurried out the door as hubby was getting himself out of bed. I came running back, banged on the door, laid on the doorbell. He FINALLY answered, all disheveled, tucking in his shirt. "What's wrong?"
"Oh gosh! I ran over the rabbit." I sobbed hysterically. "Come help me. What am I going to do? Oh my." I even worked up a tear.
"Where is it?" he asked.
I bent down and looked under my car. He came closer and bent down, too.
Then I said, "April Fool!"
He chased me into the car and said, "You got me out of the bathroom for this?!"
I could have said I ran over the squirrel, or possum, or skunk and he'd have turned and gone back inside. But when I said, "THE rabbit" his facial expression changed. He buys carrots for the wild rabbit who has survived all winter under the shed. He has plied this creature with so much salad fixings it is not far from having a Winnie the Pooh moment: stuck. It is almost too big to squeeze under.
I noticed when I came home my honey had bought carrot seeds to plant in the garden. I suppose he's planning to invite the big bunny boy to his backyard buffet.