Last night, my husband got the brilliant idea to try to carry our eleven-year-old daughter up to her room.
"No, daddy!" she screamed, and promptly ran out of the room before my husband could catch her.
"Well, I know somebody else I can carry up the stairs." He looked at me.
I looked at him. "Don't even think about it!"
He thought about it. Next thing I knew, I was over his shoulder, my head facing down and my tush facing up.
"Oh my God!" I cried. "Pleeeeeeease don't drop me!!!!!"
Meanwhile, my kids thought that was the greatest thing ever. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" they chanted as he carried me across the house, up the stairs.
My life flashed before my eyes. I could just see the headlines: "Mom Killed after Crazed Husband Drops Her on Her Head ."
Somehow he managed to carry me all the way up stairs. He put me down. I gave him my best glare, (which was difficult, because it was actually kind of funny). "You know, I just got rid of my swollen duck bill lip. What were you trying to do? Give me a goose egg on my head?"
My husband grinned. "Aw, come on. I wouldn't have dropped you. I could've carried both you and your piano up the stairs."