If you're reading this, Mom, pretend you're not reading this and pretend to be out-of-skull surprised when you receive the call from Baby Daddy... Two days ago, my father left me a message regarding a reliable way to induce labor. My father is a bona fide EXPERT on birth, so much that when I was born, he was likely so sicked out by even the thought of watching a wrinkled kewpie doll crown that he went to the cafeteria and ate a tuna sandwich.
So clearly his counsel was to be taken seriously as the tried, true words of a man who's BEEN THERE.
"Just remember this: Balsamic. Dressing," he said effusively, over voicemail.
Last night I had a delicious green salad, cheffed up by the hands of Lovey Loverpants. Walnuts. Red peppers. Cheese. Drizzled with balsamic dressing.
Four hours later and Hoover Dam broke.