The other day I took a pregnancy test. Since I know that little law of physics that says change in behavior occurs when something is being observed, I found a spot in a window sill high enough that the kids would not likely see it and I walked away.
I went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and fretted over a positive result. What on earth would I do with three kids?! Then I agonized over a negative result too. Is my womb closed forever now?! I tapped the counters with my fingertips. I paced. I was really getting worked up.
The clock read precisely three minutes past the moment I laid the test on a flat surface so I raced back to the dining room to find out what my immediate future would hold.
It was negative.
(Insert a barrage of rational and also irrational emotional responses here)
I must have too busy with my response to notice that I absent mindedly put the test right back in the window. My five-year-old son was watching my little drama unfold. Not understanding any of it he waited until I walked off into another room to talk to Dad about the results.
Then he climbed up into the window and grabbed the test stick.
My husband and I were exchanging hushed words of relief and a little bit of disappointment when we suddenly heard, “MMMMOOOMMMM! THIS DOESN’T WORK RIIIIIIGHHHHHT!”
I walked into the dining room to find my son using the pregnancy test as a marker! With the cap off!
“Mom, LOOK! I found your secret decoder marker but it isn’t working. I don’t see a message yet…”