My new brother-in-law Dave has turned the tables. Some of you may recall my baby-making instigation right before their wedding in which I urged the general public to push Dave and Erica towards multiplying and filling the earth.

About a week later I was calmly riding the bus on a hot Sunday when my cell phone buzzed. My sisters are pretty much the only sources of texts on my phone, so I was surprised to see an unfamiliar number. Curious, I opened it, not knowing the torrent I was about to tap into.

I relay to you the content; “D” is each new text from Dave:

D: Hi jenna its dave, erica and I have exciting news-we’re going to have another little nephew or niece! SO EXCITED! So get crackalackin! We await the good news!

Side note: I was very confused here, since our sister Heidi is indeed pregnant, but nobody else in either family is. I didn’t realize at the time that he was using what is called “assumptive language” in the sales industry. Talk like it’s going to happen, and chances are much higher that it will.

Me: Heidi is having twins??? And you two had better get “crackalacking” yourselves in 1 week!

D: Little hands and little feet-so cute. The world needs your progeny.

D: Tiny baby curls . . .

Me: Are you trying to brainwash me?

D: Teeny little shoes

Me: Stop! Stop! I know exactly what you’re up to Dave!

D: Itty bitty feeties

D: PINCHABLE CHEEKS!

D: Aaaaaaaaand . . . GO!!

Me: Thankfully my hubby is out of town this weekend. By the time he returns tuesday this brainwashing session will have lost its effect . . .

D: Maybe you’ll start getting random baby catalogs in the mail…just sayin

Me: What!?!? You little manipulator!!

D: Yeah. We are prepared to fight dirty.

D: Imagine tiny fingers wrapped around your man’s pinky…

D: How precious would that be?

D: Teeny tiny itty bitty scrunched up noses …

D: Little noses scrunched up right before a little sneeze …

Judge for yourselves, but Dave does indeed fight dirty. Who can withstand the onslaught of imagery in these texts? Powerful stuff, man.

Later that evening I started telling the story to a friend at church. I pulled out my phone and showed her the long line of texts from the same number. I meant it to be funny, but instead of laughing as I expected to do, suddenly I started crying as the image of tiny fingers curled around my husband’s pinky took hold. With the threat of a lagoon of mascara, I grabbed a tissue and tried to pad away any black streaks.

Dave made me cry. And he almost made me really mess up my make-up.

This all means something–but what??

About a week later, I got a follow up text that just said:

D: *achoo*

Then about a month went by. I thought he had probably forgotten about our little battle. But don’t let the innocent looks of this young couple fool you.

They’re just not to be trusted. My 5 year wedding anniversary rolled around, and whaddya know–my phone went “ka-bling.” I had a new text.

D: Happy anniversary! Just think, sweet little baby toes, soft baby ringlets, and a sweet baby voice chirping happily and cooing . . .

3 hours went by. My phone went “ka-bling” again.

D: . . . Little one all snoozy and snuggly warm in footie pajamas, wrapping his baby arms around your neck and nuzzling his precious face into your shoulder . . .

D: Are you ignoring me??

Me: Um…yeah! That’s what my mom told me to do with bullies!

D: Hey!! I’m your sister!

Me: Using Dave’s phone, eh?

D: Yes. I have no coverage with mine and his job doesn’t allow them.

Me: Was it ever Dave sending these, or was it you all along?

D: Him til today.

So there you go, folks. My sister has been revealed to be a manipulating baby-instigator as well. Dave, I’m sorry, I thought you were the only one fighting dirty. But it turns out you have corrupted Erica via being married to her, turning my own flesh and blood against me. I knew there was going to be trouble the moment that whippersnapper was born. I was completely justified in the suspicion you can see written all over my 2-year-old face.

You just wait Dave and Erica, because I have plans. Plans to, um . . . to um . . .

I mean, aren’t babies just the cutest thing? And aren’t young families just precious??

. . . but let’s stay focused here people.

I’d also like to mention that after reading my Blokus post in which I confessed to being a competitive game-player, Erica told me that Dave has decided to challenge me to all sorts of board and card games and take me down. Dave, this blog was not designed to give you the keys to my demise. But I am realizing that I may have unwittingly given them to you anyway. Thinking I was simply sharing my heart, I was actually revealing my Achilles heel to a man who apparently must win at everything, be it baby-instigating wars or game-playing tournaments. I’m starting to be afraid. Very afraid. Erica, who did you marry? And why must he win all the time?? I should have known he was a punk the minute this picture crossed my email account:

If Dave beats me at Dutch Blitz, I will be forced to retreat to a hermit’s cave and suck on my toes for the next 5 years. And lemme tell you, my husband wouldn’t appreciate that one bit, and would shortly become malnourished based on his exclusive diet of ham sandwiches, apples, and carrots. Do you want to be responsible for that, Dave? Huh?

OK (breathing slowly). Let’s make peace, Dave.

But I will completely smash you at Dutch Blitz.