Carry

I came home to find Lyla resting in a papoose. I was able to hand Julie her Starbucks without baby interference.

The papoose sling thing came in the mail today. Julie likes it better than the Baby Bjorn because it's simpler and Lyla's more comfortable. I think it looks comfortable too.

"So you ordered it when again?"

"A while ago. Don't you love the color?"

"Yeah, I'm glad it's not too girly so I can wear it at the gun range or whatever."

"You can't wear it."

I paused for a moment to consider how we would ever manage to teach our daughter how to take turns.

"I never knew you were territorial about papooses."

"No, it's called a Hot Sling, and it's not your size. I ordered it based on bra size."

So apparently there's a baby papoose called a Hot Sling, and you can't wear one unless you also wear bras. This upsets me greatly as a man who is not well-endowed in the chest region. Now I have to wear the inferior Bjorn, which makes me feel like I'm hauling Lyla up a mountainside.

"Hello? Are you paying attention? You don't have to wear a bra. Men can order with their height and weight. This one will be too small for you because you're a big galoot ogre."

"Oh. Well then."


If I ever get tired of carrying Lyla this way, maybe I'll buy my own papoose with a fire design or cobras or something. Then this summer we can go to the zoo and I'll be the envy of all the moms.