Ever since we found out that Jessie's pregnant, my Spidey senses have been on heightened alert. What I feared the most, more than changing dirty diapers or dropping the baby, was her mood swings.
I've read post after post of horror stories about the things pregnant women did to their beloved and innocent husbands when on this hormonal rampage. And let me tell you, they weren't pretty. I hate to say it, but some of these women probably would have had even the mighty Chuck Norris begging for mercy, though I cringe to even think of such a thought.
The wife's already got a bit of a short fuse (probably because of me), and I figured these hormonal imbalances would only make things worse. I knew I had to come up with a battle plan. I called it Operation M⁴ (Musn't Make Mommy Mad). Snazzy name, eh? Made that one up myself. Thank you very much.
The plan is to say, "Yes, mam" to whatever the wife says, wipe the pee off the toilet without being told, do all the housework, and try not to say anything stupid (this last one being extremely difficult for me).
So far, things have worked out fairly well. Jessie's in the middle of her first trimester, and this is supposed to be the period of time during the pregnancy when her hormones are out in full regalia. I bragged to her that I've done a pretty good job of not upsetting her.
I wanted her to praise me and tell me, "Job well done," but she claims that she hasn't gotten angry because she's changed for the better, not because I've been on my best behavior, and that I should be thanking her.
Hah! As if! But of course, I said, "Yes, mam. You're right. You have changed. Your metamorphosis has transformed you into a radiant, peaceful butterfly. So silly of me to think that I was the one that changed. I am still nothing but a lowly caterpillar unworthy of gazing upon your magnificence."
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