A couple of months ago my son and I took a father-son day out to enjoy the local science center. He ran from T-Rex, made children run from a snake, and we saw a few sharks in a tank. As we wound down our day he asked if we could visit the tigers once more. I agreed, but said he’d have to go potty first. He agreed to my terms, and added his own by requiring I carry him on my shoulders.
The two of us left the aquarium, rode the elevator to the basement, and proceeded to walk the hall towards the bathroom. With only a few steps to go I grabbed on to his sides and lifted him off my shoulders. My arms failed to extend due to the fact that I had just rammed my son’s head into the ceiling. He immediately began to cry…and bleed.