It’s not a long story, really, but in the effort to keep people from suspecting that I actually had a baby stolen from me, I figure I should set the record straight right away. I did not have my baby stolen; at least I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I never had a baby. I could be wrong, though.
After multiple conversations with my husband about this, I’ve concluded that it was probably a dream. It was just a dream, I guess, but it sure didn’t seem that way. See, we were in the mall, looking for a puppy and a baby to buy, like any normal day at the mall. And where do you get a puppy and a baby? The pet store. They’ve got a lot of cute ones there, and very reasonably priced.
So that’s what we did. We got a puppy and a baby at the pet store, and brought them home, and they were so cute. Part of me wonders if this says something worrisome about my expectations about pregnancy, or motherhood, or about how I think babies are even made. Let’s not dwell on that.
Anyway. We brought them home, and they had a grand old time in our apartment, which suspiciously looks just like our apartment in real life. Which is suspicious to me, since it very well could mean that this is all true, and that someone just wants me to think it was a dream. Which is exactly what I thought when I woke up, because the puppy and the baby were gone. Gone, you guys. And my husband denied the whole thing.
I was like, “What did you do with the puppy and the baby?” and then I glared at him.
And he was all, “What puppy and baby?”
“Um, you know, the ones we just bought. This is not funny. What did you do with them?! Tell me right now!”
“I think that might have been a dream.”
“I don’t think so. No.”
“Are you sure? You did just wake up.”
And I glared again, because that last part was true, and also because that is exactly what he would want me to think if he had stolen them. Also, I figured that if I had stolen a puppy and a baby, I wouldn’t tell someone who asked either, so I couldn’t really fault him for that.
In the end, he might have been right about the dreaming. If he did steal them, I’m not sure I want to know, because he really doesn’t seem like the type, and I’d hate to be so wrong about someone who I thought would never steal either a puppy or a baby. And I guess the only other option is that I’ve been incepted, and the world I’m living in now isn’t real, and that there’s a puppy and a baby waiting for me to wake up somewhere, which would be kind of sad. Actually, that’s probably not far from the truth.
In that case, I guess it doesn’t matter what I post on this blog, ever. I’ll try to keep that in mind while I’m writing. That seems to ensure quality, which is really what I’m all about.