15 weeks

My baby and I lay on the couch tonight in a sea of pillows to our aft and starboard sides. With all available sofa space allocated to women and children, Chip was relegated to the love seat, where he poked fun at the dudes and dudettes vying for love (or, at the very least, a Hollywood agent) on the latest reality show.

His insights into the rampant intellectual vacuity of the cast made me laugh throughout the first forty minutes. Toward the end of the hour, however, Chip made a quip that I didn’t get. To my chagrin I saw him in my peripheral vision, his eyes sparkling, as he waited expectantly for a laugh.

“Honey, did you hear me?” He gave me a playful poke, clearly not wanting his audience to desert him. “That was the best one of the night.”

“Um, yeah sweetie. I heard you.”

“You didn't think that was funny?” He looked incredulous. “C’mon. You know. From Fawlty Towers. Get it?”

I winced. How could I miss a zinger tied to my favorite television comedy? Sadly, try as I might, I didn't have the foggiest notion what he meant.

“You really don't know, do you?”

“No,” I wailed, hating the stupid thing I had become.

Baffled, Chip shook his head. But before long a sly smile spread across his lips, causing me much greater concern than his prior look of disbelief.

“What?” I demanded.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. What?”

He avoided my eyes. “It’s just that—”

“Just what?”

He looked me straight in the eye, the smirk still very much in place. “She would know.”

“She?”

“Yeah, you know. That other chick who looks a lot like you....”

One of us chicks promptly whacked him with a pillow.