I'm the father in this story, and I feel like I should explain myself. It wasn't like it was just the wedding. My son is constantly making things up, like "Hey, dad, I'll be going to Joe's house after school," or "Hey, dad, I got all As on my report card," or "Hey, dad, I crashed my car on the way home from work tonight, no seriously, dad, please don't hang up I don't know where I am and I need help."

So when he called on April 1, 2009, to tell me he'd found a girlfriend, I knew it was bullshit.

I rolled my eyes, but then realized he couldn't see them because our relationship takes place entirely over the phone. "Haha, awesome April Fools' Day joke, idiot," I added sarcastically. "Everyone knows it'd be a cold day in hell when you got a girlfriend."

"But dad, it's true, her name is -"

"Shut up, Greg. See if you can't come up with a more realistic joke next year."

The next year, he called me again. We literally don't talk about his personal life at all, because we have a totally normal father-son relationship. "Hey dad, I got married," he said.

"I said more realistic, not to spin a story that's even less likely than Half Life 3," I said smugly, and hung up to teach that little bitch a lesson.

After a few more months of radio silence, he called me again. "Hey dad, Sara's pregnant, and she's due on April Fools' Day!" he said.

I was all, "wth who's Sara" because I have the attention span of a gnat and couldn't remember my son telling me he got married, like, twelve weeks ago.

"We got married on April Fools' Day so you didn't believe me, remember?" He asked. "And then I did nothing to try to convince you, didn't send you any wedding pictures, didn't ever mention her again until this very moment."

"Well, son," I had to admit, "That's definitely normal behavior but I'm still not entirely convinced you aren't making this shit up."

Long story short, my granddaughter celebrated her fourth birthday this year and I still haven't acknowledged her existence.