A while back I injured my lower back playing racquetball. I say that I injured it playing racquetball, which makes it sound like a real injury that I sustained while doing manly, athletic things, but in reality I injured it bending over to serve.
Once my back got to feeling better, I resumed my real exercise: Dad Jungle Gym. Every night I sit on the floor and let Liza and Eli climb all over me. They have a lot of fun. I mostly have an interesting collection of bruises.
Of course this re-injured my back.
Hindsight being what it is, I only realized that letting Eli push me over, climb on top of my back, and jump up and down might not be the best thing until I woke up the next morning unable to bend over. But I don’t want to give up Dad Jungle Gym! I’d lose the chance to sit with Eli later that night and make new constellations out of my bruises. The only real solution is for Eli and Liza to go on diets.
That’s going to be tricky, given their wildly divergent eating habits. Given Eli’s love of chicken fingers the Atkins Diet is a natural fit, but he wouldn’t be able to cram crackers in his mouth. How can I drain the joy out of his life like that? A life that doesn’t include a cracker-filled mouth every hour or so is not a life worth living. Perhaps I could create a hybrid of the Atkins Diet and the rice diet.
Liza, well, she’ll just have to become a Breatharian.