Last night, the temperatures were in the mid-50s, and the setting sun was still radiating through the trees, so my wife and I decided to bundle up the boy and go for a walk.
Because our son had already been on two stroller walks that day with his babysitter/grandfather, we opted to mix things up a bit by using a body harness instead. For those not familiar with baby body harnesses, they're kind of like a kangaroo pouch you wear over your stomach, and your baby basically dangles there in the pouch, surveying all around him.
Whenever I wear the harness and I have the boy perched on my tummy, I always think of Kuato in the movie "Total Recall." I keep expecting my boy to turn to me and say "Quaid, release your mind."
Now, I've worn the harness before, and I've never had any problems. The thing is, all the other times I've worn the harness, I hadn't recently ingested pork ribs and French fries dipped in Bad Boy hot sauce. Last night, I DID ingest pork ribs and French fries dipped in Bad Boy hot sauce before strapping on the baby harness.
Believe me, the difference was intense.
About 3/4 of a mile into our walk, the weight of my son pressing on my stomach became increasingly noticeable, so much so that I barely even acknowledged his repeated soft kicking on my groin. Apparently, my son's weight on my stomach was doing strange things to the chemical make-up of my intestinal tract, which had begun roiling and churning like a ship lost in an ocean storm.
Eventually, I reached an unpleasant conclusion; that being, it was incredibly unlikely I would be able to make it back to the house without the immediate appearance of an accessible toilet. Further, the likelihood of said triumphant return was made even less viable so long as I had Kuato strapped to my chest.
I stopped in my tracks, and my wife helped me to hurriedly remove the harness, all the while laughing at me and my unfortunate situation. I hastily kissed my son's forehead, and I could have sworn he looked at me and said "Quaid, release your bowels!"
And then I started to run. Admittedly, I ran as gingerly as possible, but run I did. I had a good mile-and-a-half to cover and each jogging step was ever more uncertain than the step that preceded it.
By the time I reached the front steps, I was basically in agony. The battle between the unstoppable force and the immovable object was rapidly being won by the unstoppable force.
I won't go into further detail about how close I came to complete disaster, but I'll conclude with: whoa, that was CLOSE.
Posted by Ryan at March 18, 2010 05:27 AM | TrackBack
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