I was bending over when something bad happened. My wife and I were getting ready to leave the house, and I was bending over to pick up my kid and get her onto her feet – lifting her off the kitchen floor – and right when I thought she was upright, supporting herself, right when I thought everything was cool ... that’s when Satan himself showed up.
Yes, Lucifer had decided that today was my day to suffer. He had crept into my house and, sometime between breakfast and potty time, the Prince of Darkness had infested my 4-year-old daughter’s very being to use as a weapon against me.
So right when I was relaxing the muscles in my back because I thought my kid was standing on her two feet ... POW – she jerked up her little legs and fell like a sack of (pink, sparkly, adorable) hammers. I was still holding onto her, so I instinctively grabbed tight, and all of a sudden my spine was supporting her full weight, and WONK!
Something very bad happened in my lower back. I’m still not sure what it was, but a muscle got pulled, or a disc got shifted, or my spleen got exploded, or maybe it was a deliciously evil combo platter of all three. At any rate, white light exploded before my eyeballs and all the Earth was flooded with a rushing, shrieking pain. Because of Satan.
I managed to lower my daughter the floor without uttering every single swear word ever invented by humankind, and I got down to the manly business of curling up into a ball to weep silent tears. It felt like the Lumbar Fairy fluttered up behind me and smacked my lower spine with an old, rusty shovel.
You might be asking yourself if this whole fiasco could possibly have been my fault. Couldn’t I have just lifted with my legs? Shut the hell up, it was Beelzebub, the Father of Lies.
And it wasn’t the first time he’d attacked my back. See, this has actually been happening for a year or two, ever since my first child – something I hoist on a daily basis – grew heavier than a (pink, sparkly, adorable) toaster oven.