Earlier draft posted on FB June 2, 2022 • Written by Lesa Quale Ferguson

TTonight, ladies and gentlemen, we bring you a tale of television history—a story of comedy, culture, and one little word that sent a family into a tizzy.

What Happened

Recently, my dad told me a story about watching the “Lucy Is Enceinte” episode of I Love Lucy with his grandparents. In 1952, he was in third grade when this cultural-shifting moment aired—the first time a woman acknowledged pregnancy (without saying the word—God forbid) on TV.

When Lucy told Ethel she was “expecting,” my dad didn’t understand why his grandparents became so visibly shaken and upset. His grandmother clutched her pearls. His grandfather swiftly shut off the TV.

Since he wasn’t allowed to watch the end of the episode, he became mesmerized by the word expecting. What could it mean? Like many kids witnessing something too big for their understanding, he memorialized their reaction.

Scenario 2: Enter Little Ricky (with ADHD)

Now, replace my dad with a kid who has ADHD—primarily hyperactive. Let’s call him Little Ricky. He watches the same episode with his grandparents. He sees his grandmother clutch her pearls. His grandfather shuts off the TV. The tension in the room crackles.

Just like my dad, Little Ricky is fascinated. But where my dad quietly wondered, Little Ricky acts.

He experiments—mimicking Lucy and Ethel’s mannerisms. No reaction. He tries the words he just heard. He lands on expecting. His grandparents quake.

Bingo.

He says it again.

The more frantic they get, the funnier it becomes to him. He can’t stop. He’s bouncing off the furniture, chanting like a boy possessed: “EXPECTING! EXPECTING! EXPECTING!”

His grandmother grabs a broom and swats his butt down the stairs to his parents’ flat. His grandfather yells after him,
“You are raising a pervert!”

Little Ricky’s mom—let’s call her Lisa—follows him into his room. “What happened?” she asks.

Little Ricky, head buried in his pillow, mutters, “My grandparents hate me.”

A Mother’s Perspective

Lisa spends almost every waking minute trying to keep Little Ricky from jumping on the furniture and turning words into grenades. He can combust a room with nothing more than the spark of someone’s anxiety. And as someone who loves words, she’s a wee bit impressed—even in her exhaustion.

When her parents, a teacher, or anyone else comes to her condemning her child, Lisa doesn’t see her son in their words. She sees their hang-ups, their peccadilloes, their anxieties.

Do they even realize her son has found the word that shows them up?

If she weren’t trying to hold it all together, she might say: “Keep that up, and you’ll talk yourself right into show business.”

And if he weren’t so downhearted, she’d add: “Forget ‘expecting.’ Try ‘communist.’ Or ‘divorce.’ Or ‘trans.’ Or ‘DEI.’ Or ‘immigrant.’ That’ll get them going.”

Scenario 3: What If?

Let’s return to that moment—only this time, my dad, Little Ricky, and their grandparents watch Lucy Is Enceinte together.

Lucy tells Ethel she is expecting.

My dad asks, “What does that mean?”

His grandmother, without hesitation, says, “Lucy is having a baby.”

They watch to the end. They see Lucy and Ricky’s sweet announcement. They smile.

No one needs to memorialize the moment. No one gets sent downstairs. The word expecting fades into the ordinary, where it belonged all along.

Cue closing credits.