Barefoot and Pregnant

I'm in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies (my favorite sport) when Spiceboy chuckles.

"What?" I ask.

"Right now, you are barefoot and pregnant-- in the kitchen!"

I open my mouth to protest. After all, I'm a modern woman, right? I work hard! I have a career! "Barefoot and pregnant" carries with it a connotation I've worked very hard to avoid.

Then I look down at myself. I am wearing a tattered flowered skirt and a blue tank top, through which my ever-more-noticable belly protrudes. My feet are indeed bare, and I've got a spatula in one hand.

For a moment, I am horrified.

Then I giggle at the absurd truth of it and help myself to a cookie.