One evening at age seven I fooled my father by placing the handle of our dog’s leash over his dangling foot and the other end around the leg of the easy chair in which he sat dozing. When he awoke, stood and headed toward the bathroom, he took two steps before diving head-first to the floor. My goose was cooked. To my relief and astonishment, Dad began to laugh. Teachers at this time of the year also warned me of expulsion if I placed a thumbtack on the seat of any classmate’s chair. That likewise scared me. I chose not to tempt fate twice.

When parenthood arrived, I made sure to enter my children’s bedrooms on April 1 each year to announce, “Time to get up. It snowed last night and school is canceled today.”

“Dad! Why did you wake me up for that?” they groaned.

“April Fool,” came my reply. “Rise and shine – time to get ready for school.” They whined some more.

Communicating back and forth with my sister by email on this day twenty years ago, I told her she would soon have another niece or nephew since we had learned that Rita was pregnant. ‘Things happen for a reason,’ she responded, followed by, ‘It’s in God’s hands.’

‘April Fool’ I sent back. Despite passage of time, she has yet to forgive me.

A year ago yesterday, my periodic on-line charge account review took place in search of any unexplained entries. I questioned Rita about a particular eBay charge that alarmed me. “Do you know anything about this?” I asked with a frown.

“Don’t you remember, hon? I told you about that bracelet I wanted and you said “Okay.” I didn’t remember, but chose not to press the issue.

As usual, my morning arrived earlier than Rita’s the next day. Disconnecting my phone charger, I began the awkward tip-toeing through the tulips dance toward an obligatory morning visit to the water closet. To subdue noise, I took a seat to drain the radiator. Doing otherwise might disturb the Queen of Sheba’s slumber. Passing both time and water, I looked for any overnight text messages, spotting one from Rita generated just after midnight when I was comatose. The message read, “Hon, I hate to tell you this, but I discovered and purchased a necklace to go with my bracelet for only [$$]. Don’t be mad.” A bit more time was needed perched atop the stool.

To perpetuate Rita’s long-standing deception as her perfect gentleman, it seemed best not to disturb the princess about her message. Instead, I headed to the kitchen to brew coffee with hope my blood pressure might inch down a little. It was time to contemplate options how best to throw brakes on what often seems Rita’s relentless obsession to stay ahead of her sisters. Stewing over possibilities, each seemed to promise a squabble rather than any blissful remedy.

When Little Miss Muffet appeared in the kitchen in search of her Tuffet, she stooped over to deliver our traditional morning smooch. I turned away, saying, “I don’t know why you torture me so.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. I held up the phone with her overnight message front and center. “Tee hee, hee,” she giggled. “Gotcha! April Fool.” As happened in 1957, I couldn’t help but laugh as my father did rather than becoming upset.

When it comes to any April Fools prank, be prepared to laugh — even if you are tripped up or bamboozled in some way. When it comes to the unexpected in retirement, laughter can help your blood pressure. Besides, without merriment, there just ain’t that much gold left in them golden years. Except, that is, for what finds its way into Rita’s endless shenanigans and jewelry box. No fooling.