I always thought that if I ever got pregnant I would break the news to my family by putting a bun in the oven and somehow position them to discover it, and then I’d watch them make the connection. I read this idea on the Internet many years back, and I thought it would be fun.
The only problem was, when it came time to tell my family, I didn’t have anything resembling a bun in my kitchen, and I couldn’t justify a trip to the grocery store just to satisfy a practical joke.
So I got creative with something I really thought would work. I put it in the oven, and I turned on the oven light. It could clearly been seen from my dinning room table, so I asked my mom, dad, and brother to gather around, so that we could talk about the schedule for the rest of the evening.
My mom took forever to get out of the bathroom, and finally when we were all together, my stud-muffin husband had to relieve himself, and if that wasn’t enough, the moment I started gesturing to the oven, my dad got up and had to take a nature break as well.
Oh well, I got 4 out of 5 of ‘em and continued the prank. My brother was first to approach the object. He hesitantly opened the door, stared at it for a second, and then poked it several times with three different fingers and said, “I don’t know what that is.”
I again asked, “What is it though.” So my mom approached, quickly opened the oven door, and without any reservation declared, “I know what that is. It’s just a wadded up piece of bread in the oven.”
“Oh jesus,” I proclaimed, “It’s supposed to be a bun.”
And at that moment, my dad walks out of the bathroom and bellows, “What? You have a bun in the oven?”
I calmly replied, “yes,” and received three simultaneous, “WHAT?”s. I replied again, “I have a bun in the oven.” Dad backed up against the refrigerator as if his legs could no longer hold his weight, mom said, “what,” no more than three additional times at a very high pitch, and the corners of my brother’s mouth expanded wider than I’d seem them in a long time.
That was fun.