In fact, HB was having a
I should have photographed that. Or caught some video. Because that kid was out of control.
It's not often that a two year old being special can be used as a marketing tool. Parishioners stared as I tossed HB up on my shoulder and slipped him down into the sling.
One kindly granny shook with fear for my life and shouted a warning, Look out for his pointy little elbows. Want me to whack him once with my cane?
Never fear, kindly granny, I replied in a most nonchalant fashion. I've got Old Bessie, my trusty Hotslings, at my side.
But it's just a piece of fabric! she shouted, unconvinced of the power of the Hotslings, What good can it possibly do for you in this moment of grave peril?!?!?!?
WHAT? I called back to her, unable to understand what she was saying over the din that was my son. What did you say?
IT'S JUST FABRIC! A PIECE OF COTTON!!! YOUR DEMISE IS IMMINENT!!!
Oh, no, Kindly Granny! The secret is in the... oh, never mind, I'm not telling you what the secret is! Then it wouldn't be secret any more.
And while we were shouting at each other, in a most neighborly way, I had arranged the padded rail comfortably behind the screaming person's knees. I pulled the sling tight, over my right shoulder, to lock that little snot my charming son in place.
He kicked and he screamed and still he could not escape the clutches of the Hotslings.
Yet still he flailed.
Still he screamed. He was dedicated.
He tried to kick me, but he couldn't.
He tried to punch me. MUAH-HAHAHAHA.... I laughed my I'm The Mama And I'm Winning Laugh.
A gaggle of kindly grannies gathered and gaped as we gregariously gabbed about my great garment. (Okay, it's not technically a garment, but I wear it so often, it might as well be one. And also? I had a great thing going with that alliteration there.)
Then we got tired of the screaming, and I walked home. The sweet, darling, light of my life had fallen asleep in the two minute walk up the street.
And that is how Hotslings saved Sunday.