By+Nancy+Weber+译/Shel

In my natal family, the holiest of holidays were April Fools, Valentines, Halloween, and the first night of Passover, in that order. To joke was to love, was to entertain, was to celebrate liberty. Pranking was not only allowed, it was encouraged. Maybe it was even mandatory. And there were rules. Tricking people wasnt supposed to be mean. The butt of your joke wasnt meant to feel like a jerk. Ideally the victim would be warmed and flattered by the attention.

Five oclock on a lovely early spring evening, my mother called me in from the backyard. She and my father were going out to dinner, she said, and she had my dinner ready at the kitchen table.

Pretty weird: No one, not even babies, dined at five in our family. But my mother had a happy, adoring look on her face, and I didnt think twice about going along with whatever she wanted me to do. I washed my hands and sat down at the table. I can see it perfectly across the years—the table festively set with a straw placemat, yellow cloth napkin, and a fork and knife from the dining room flatware.

With a flourish, my mother set a plate before me: two sunny-side-up eggs, a couple of strips of bacon, and a heap of bright peas and carrots. It wasnt the sort of food we ate for dinner—I think that was the year of Steak Diane. But my mother was calling it dinner, and so dinner it was. I stuck a fork into the yolk. Well, I tried to stick it in. Everything on the plate was candy. Thus, my first April Fools Day, and sheer perfection. My mother and I laughed and ate the marzipan veggies, and I felt very loved.

Less successful was the time my mother called me into the kitchen, said, “Nancy, Im angry at you”, and threw a drinking glass at my feet. It shattered on the floor, and I burst into hysterical tears. “No!” my mother wailed, gathering me into her arms. “It was a joke! Thats Libbys new bounce glass! It was supposed to pop right up like a tennis ball! Oh, baby girl, Im so sorry. Im going to write a letter to Libby and give them hell.”

Fast-forward to the next generation of family life. Elsewhere on this site, you may hear from my grown-up kids, Rose and Albert, about our patented version of the prank: the narf. I dont quite know how the word or the concept got introduced into our world when the kids were small. Maybe its an acronym for Not A Real Fact.

Our narf is a spoken prank. Its an attempt to get another family member to believe, if only for a second, a patent bit of nonsense that should defy credulity in even a half-awake, distracted person who is, say, busily making brownies.

“Theres a kangaroo in the bathroom.”

“Ive been short-listed for the Nobel!”

Rose and Albert are in their 20s now, and we still occasionally narf one another, or try to. How has narfing endured all these years when so much else has fallen away? I give credit to its having rules and protocols, like any meaningful game. For instance, narfing is nearly cruelty-free. Its not a narf to tell someone who loves you that youve been diagnosed with leprosy. If your narf misfires, and someones bullshit detector lights up, you immediately have to confess.

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Back to the natal family. For the last forty years or so, my younger brother and I have been so poised to be pranked by the other on April first, and a telephone call on the day would go like this.

“Hi. I was walking down...”

“April Fools!”

With the coming of caller ID, neither of us could even say“Hi” before being doubted by the other. So one recent year my brother April Fooled me the night before, and then claimed the holiday had started at sundown.

And yet, I was secretly glad that hed violated good form. I love being fooled, and its happening less and less. I just dont feel I can let my guard down these days.

Oh, bring back the springtime of candy carrots and peas.

在我出生成长的家庭里，最神圣的节日依次往下排就是愚人节、情人节、万圣节和逾越节的第一个晚上。我们觉得恶作剧是一种爱的表达，是一种娱乐，也是一种对自由的庆祝。恶作剧不只是被允许的，它还是受大家推崇的，甚至可以说是非玩不可的。当然，恶作剧也是要讲求规则的。戏弄他人时不能太卑鄙。你的玩笑并不是为了证明被你捉弄的人是个笨蛋。理想的恶作剧能让被捉弄的人感到温暖，感到被关注而开心。

那是一个美丽的早春，傍晚五点。妈妈把我从后院叫回家，对我说，她和爸爸要出去吃饭，我的晚饭她已经准备好了，就在餐桌上。

真奇怪，我们家从来没有在五点就吃晚饭的，连小宝宝们也不会这么早。但是妈妈一脸开心雀跃的样子，我毫不犹豫地就照她说的去做了。我洗了手，然后坐在桌子前面。就算过了这么多年，当时的情景依旧历历在目：像过节似的，桌上铺着一张草编餐垫、黄色的布餐巾，摆放着从套装餐具里抽出来的刀叉。

妈妈端了一个装着丰盛食物的盘子放到我面前：两个荷包蛋、两片培根肉片，还有一堆颜色鲜艳的豌豆和胡萝卜。这些都不是我们平时晚饭吃的东西——那年的正餐我们流行吃“黛安牛排”。既然妈妈说这是晚餐，那这就是晚餐吧。我想用叉子叉住蛋黄。然而，怎么也叉不进去。原来，盘子里的所有东西都是糖果。这就是我的第一个愚人节，一切都完美极了。我和妈妈都笑了，并一起吃那些用杏仁蛋白糊做成的蔬菜。那一刻，我觉得温暖极了。

不是每次恶作剧都这么成功。有一次，妈妈把我叫进厨房说，“南希，你惹妈妈生气了”，紧接着把一个水杯摔到了我脚边。杯子摔在地板上，碎了，我吓了一跳，大哭了起来。妈妈也慌了，把我搂进怀里，难过地喊着：“不！那是个玩笑！那是利比最新的弹性玻璃杯！摔到地上应该像网球那样弹起来的！噢，我的宝贝女儿，真对不起，我一定要写信投诉他们，该死的。”

现在快进到我家庭生活中的下一代吧。你也许在别的什么地方听我那两个成年的孩子——罗丝和艾伯特，说起过我们的“专利”恶作剧“narf”。其实我也不清楚这个词或者概念是怎么在孩子们还小的时候就出现在我们的生活中的。这个词或许是“Not A Real Fact”（意为“是假的”）这个词组的缩写。

我们的“narf”是一种口头上的恶作剧，就是尝试让另一个家庭成员去相信一些胡说八道的东西，哪怕只是蒙骗了对方一秒钟也算成功了。即使当时对方正半梦半醒，或者正在分心做其他事情，如正在忙碌地做着带坚果的巧克力蛋糕。

“洗手间有只袋鼠。”

“我已经入选诺贝尔奖了！”

罗丝和艾伯特如今都已经20多岁了，但是我们还是会偶尔相互玩一下“narf”，倒不是每次都成功。当那么多种恶作剧都慢慢地被大家玩腻了时，“narf”这个恶作剧为何还能如此经久不衰呢？我觉得这可能归功于这个恶作剧具备的规则和礼节，就跟任何有意义的游戏一样。举个例子，“narf”恶作剧几乎不会伤害到人，它不是那种跟爱你的人说你被诊断出得了麻风病的谎话。而且，当你的“narf”把戏失败了，对方开始有所警觉时，你就要立刻坦白承认。

再回到我长大的家里。在过去的40多年里，我和弟弟已经练就了一身镇定自若的本领来应对彼此的愚人节恶作剧，我们有时候会在电话里玩这样的恶作剧：

“嗨，我那天走在……”

“愚人节快乐！”

后来有了来电显示，结果我们连那句“嗨”也给省了，一看号码就顿时警觉起来。所以最近有一年，弟弟在愚人节前一天晚上就来捉弄我了，还振振有词地说3月31日太阳下山后就是愚人节了。

然而，即使弟弟这般“暗箭伤人”，可我还是会偷着乐。我喜欢被捉弄，虽然发生在我身上的恶作剧已经越来越少，但这些年来，我那根弦始终绷着，不敢放松警惕。

哦，让那些充满胡萝卜糖和豌豆糖的美好春日时光回来吧。

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