Just after dinner one night, my daughter came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards she holds prisoner in her room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," she told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed into her bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the lizard!"
"Oh, my gosh!" my wife exclaimed. "She's having babies."
"What?" my daughter demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mum!"
I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I said accusingly to my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!"
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my daughter agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm!)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my daughter urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 999?" my eldest daughter wanted to know.
"Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my daughter holding the cage in her lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," she urged.
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Horne , may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my daughter to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um . . um . . .satisfy themselves. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So, Ernie's just, just . . ... excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
Tears were now running down her face. "It's just ... that ...I'm picturing you pulling on its .. . . its. . teeny little . . "
She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our daughter back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad," she told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: £140.
One cage: £50.
Trip to the vet: £30.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie:
Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class.
Lizards lay eggs!!

Fortunately, I was never so gullible