Normally, I believe that the bedroom is a sacred (read “set-apart”, not “holy”) room; a private area dedicated to the special, personal relationship between a man and his wife. However, due to recent complaints… nay… comments from my wife regarding my reaction to the wonderful news that she is bearing my fourth child, I feel the need to temporarly allow you all a peek into the secret world that is the Tom/Sarah reproduction cycle (and yes, it’s a cycle).

Let me explain to you my wife’s philosophy regarding the biological function known as human reproduction. My wife has this idea that her body is out to get her. For some reason unknown to her, God and her reproductive system have formed a sinister alliance which has determined that she will have somewhere in the vicinity of two dozen children.

Her strategy over the past years has been to use all the God-authorized methods for thwarting Him, including herbs, witchcraft, calendars, rhythms, themometers, and strange incantations. These details of these methods are a mystery to me, and the best I can do is nod dumbly, and comfort myself with the blessings of my three older children, and the knowledge of the conspiracy between my wife’s body and God. If I ever had to choose in a bet between my wife and God, I’d kiss her on the cheek, and throw my cash down on God’s pile.

After coming home from my recent trip to Japan, my wife was complaining about feeling ill, which is something she rarely does. Typically, she’ll start complaining about “a slight pain” right before she keels over from a burst appendix. So, when she said she was “feeling ill”, I knew that either she had contracted the Bubonic Plague, or, well… you know.

Now, keeping in mind all the background information regarding my wife’s firm belief that she is going to run out of names in the baby name book before she stops having children, when she comes into the bedroom this morning with a positive pregnancy test, the first thought in my mind was that I could once again collect on betting for God, and against the collective wisdom of this age. I just can’t let her know that I’m in on the conspiracy between God and her reproductive system.

So, there… I have no apologies for my reaction to the wonderful news.