Hypothetically speaking, of course

I don't want us to have any baby in the summertime, Dave said.

Why? Because they'll be either the youngest kid in their class -- the one who can't drive 'til junior year -- or the oldest kid -- who gets facial hair as a seventh grader? I asked.

No, he said.

Because I couldn't have Jell-o shots at the Niese Christmas? I asked.

No, he said.

Because I'd miss AirVenture?

No ... it's because it's hot and humid, he said, half laughing in case I took it too personally and he'd have to whip out the "I was just kidding! Just kidding! Don't give me The Look!" line.

You're grumpy when it's hot outside and we're not even having a baby, he added.

"Nice." That, spoken really curtly and in half-seriousness, was my initial reaction. Then I realized ... yeah.

God, he's so right. I'd need one of those window air conditioners to strap to my back like the Ghostbusters' back pack things and a really long extension cord. And Dave would need a helmet.