This past week the wife and I had “the scare.”

You know…the one where you realize it’s been a while since the wife had her monthly visitor and there could be a little something brewing in the oven. Yeah…that’s the one.

We already have two little bastards – a six-year-old girl who can have you in the corner holding your knees while rocking and crying, and an eight-year-old boy who can pretty much work the word “poop” into any sentence or song.

The thought of starting all over again is just mind-numbing.

We decided long before the wife spit the second child onto this floating rock that we would stop at two. I happily volunteered to go have my man-vessels severed just to make damn sure there wouldn’t be a third.

I remember like it was yesterday sitting in the doctor’s office as he said, “now, after the surgery you’re going to have to come back to the office with semen samples so we can check to make sure you’ve relieved your body of all the sperm. You’ll need two negative tests in a row before we give you the ‘all clear’ sign.”

And he also said, “once you get the all clear there is absolutely no way you can get pregnant again. If I was allowed to say this surgery is 100% proven to keep you and the Mrs. from having another baby, I would.”

Those words echoed in my head, reassuring me that I was just overreacting to the fact the wife’s body wasn’t ready to do its monthly duty. But then I started freaking out again when Google revealed the word “recanalization” to me.

Apparently it’s an extremely rare thing that some dudes with vasectomies experience in which the tubes reconnect and small amounts of sperm get ejaculated again!!

Or how my mind simplifies it…it’s where god hates you, goes into your balls, tells modern science to kiss off, and makes your semen potent again.

At that very second I had to know if the wife was indeed preggo.

Me: “Honey, I’m getting you a pregnancy test so start working up some pee woman!”

Wife: “You’re an idiot. I’m not pregnant.”

Me: “Well, if you are, the first thing I’m doing when that baby comes out is getting a paternity test on the Maury Show.”

Wife: “Just for that I hope I’m pregnant with twins you gap-toothed idiot.”

Ten minutes later I had the wife convinced enough to go upstairs to the bathroom and pee on a $26 stick. The waiting was sheer torture.

In my mind I was all: “We would have to register for baby shit all over again.” “I never should have bragged about never having to change a diaper again.” “What if we really do have twins?!!” “Why did Zack never try to hook-up with Jesse on Saved By The Bell? She looks like she would have been a lot of fun in bed.” “If she is pregnant I wonder if I can use that as an excuse for us to get rid of the dog?” “Oh my god I’m gonna have to wear condoms for the rest of my life!!”

Wife: “Here, are you happy now?”I

In front of me was a pee-soaked magic-stick with one lonely little line showing. According to the imprint on the stick, two little lines means your screwed. One little line means it’s Miller Time!!

I immediately hugged the wife and high-fived my testicles for not back-stabbing me.

And just like that the weight of the world was lifted.