Somewhere in the HamannEggs archives, among the poop stories collecting dust and that box full of obvious attempts to suck up to Diana, there’s a story about me introducing Elijah to horsey rides.
You know, where you crawl around on all fours and your kid rides atop your back. The result is usually a head bashed into a coffee table. Somewhere around the 50th or 60th head bash, Eli and I gave up the game and went on to more classy pursuits like tickling until one of us wets his pants.
So like Sesame Street and Curious George and eating vegetables, we simply forgot about horsey rides.
But about a week ago, I was laying on the floor while the boys ran crazily naked around me. As I was warning them not to point their bits and pieces at me, I suddenly remembered hey, Luca has never done a horsey ride.
I flipped over onto my stomach and said, “Who wants a horsey ride?”
Elijah immediately jumped on my back. Luca, always the skeptic, wasn’t so sure.
“It’s totally safe. Climb aboard,” I said. Eli unconsciously rubbed the scar on his head.
Luca saddled up and I lifted myself into horsey position. A searing pain shot from my shoulders to my toe. I suddenly realized two riders is roughly 3 times heavier than one rider. I began to slowly crawl around the bedroom, grunting in pain.
My two naked riders began spurring me with their boney feet, trying to get me to giddyap.
Meanwhile, Grover decided this was the perfect moment to mount me. This bizarre sexual slash wrestling maneuver added enough weight to my back to make the sides of my vision go blurry.
I stood up, ejecting all my riders, dog and human and declared horsey rides over forever.
And now, like all things painful (like watching “Fireman Sam”), both Eli and Luca beg me to do it constantly.