Last June, Beau and I booked an anniversary trip to Mexico. Baby talk had begun and although it had become a part of our regular conversation, no definite 'plan' was in the works. During our trip, we went to Chichen Itza, one of the seven wonders of the world and the home of the famous Mayan Ruins. A large part of this day involved being persuaded by, and turning down a number of Mexican vendors. Their work was beautiful and I wanted to buy something, but Beau was set on bartering his way to a good bargain.
As we hit our last line of vendors, we stopped at a table full of beautifully hand-carved Mayan masks. The man was smart, as he knew how to work over the ignorant American 'lovebirds.' He handed me a mask with a sun and moon carved in the top.
Man: "this mask will grant you fertility."
Me (to Beau): "we can't walk away from this now, we'll jinx it."
After several minutes of Beau attempting to snag a deal...
Beau (handing him the cash): "for fertility!"
As we walked away, hand in hand, admiring our new souvenir, we missed the vendor licking his chops and counting his bills. If I would have been listening closer, I'm sure I would have heard him whisper an English word frequently a part of his growing vocabulary...
That night, at the resort bar, Beau and I were sipping our pina coladas in fantasy land, as a Mayan bartender asked us about our day. We told him about Chichen Itza, as well as our wonderful 'score' with the vendor. I pulled the mask out from my bag and informed the man that we would be taking home the Mayan sign of fertility to help us in the year to come. As the bartender examined the mask, he laughed.
Bartender: "You got hosed. This sign does not mean fertility. It symbolizes the stages of sleep!"
So...instead of fertility, the mask would grant us many days and hours of pleasurable...sleep.
Eleven months later, the Mayan mask dons our curio cabinet and watches, the three of us, sleep.