It wasn't April 1st - it was a sweltering, sunny, 35 degree (Celsius) day in July (the stiff humidity made it feel more like 45).
Mom had spent all day cleaning the house (a Victorian era brick home with no air conditioning) she finally flopped on the love seat in exhaustion, her job complete.
I went to the kitchen, reached to the back of the fridge and retrieved a cold glass. It was instantly beading in the humid air.
I took it over to my Mother and presented it to her "Oh, thank you Steven" - positioning myself at the far end of the coffee table, I waited until her mouth was full and exclaimed "It's pee!!!" - to which, she sprayed out my ice chilled urine all over the living room she had just finished cleaning.
With no obstacles between me and the screen door, I was out the door, down the steps and a block away before I heard her scream "You have to come home sometime!!!"
I think I was 8?
Of course, I knew what was waiting for me when I came home. A sound spanking for having the audacity to disrespect my Mother in such a way. No-where nearly as bad as I've gotten before (or after) as Dad's heart just wasn't in it....he couldn't stop laughing the entire time.
Mom didn't talk to me for several days after that. Always that face of tight-lipped white-hot fury. I think I did end up doing something sweet to get back into her good graces - but, of course, THAT I don't remember.
I've always had a good imagination...and, when I was a kid, growing up in a rural town in Southwestern Ontario, we always made our own fun.
So, most of my childhood (and teen years), my parents shipped me off to my grandparents farm - most weekends and every summer. heh. I'm sure to preserve their sanity.