I may have mentioned before about my husband’s science. Apparently he last took a science course some time in the 1970’s and at the time deemed it a bunch of nonsense. Since then he has set out to create his own explanations for things. They are a source of much amusement for myself ( a former science teacher) and the giant teenagers, both doing pure science at senior secondary school.
One of my husband’s theories is that babies and small children are made of rubber. His theory is based on careful observation as all scientific theories are. Toddlers can fall, as long as no one is watching, over and over again with no ill effects; children too. On the other hand, if an adult human being falls, even a small trip with no blood or bruises, the aches will last for days, sometimes weeks, it might even involve a trip to the hospital. The obvious reason for this, according to my husband, is that babies are born rubbery. As time passes, the rubber slowly begins to solidify until at adulthood we are covered in a type of material that lacks flexibility while at the same time is easily damaged by even the lightest scrape; a lose-lose kind of situation. At least it could have morphed into steel. I like the idea of being made of steel, preferably stainless.
This morning I think I’m being pulled to my husband’s point of view. I was out with the dogs on our morning walk/run (the dangers of which just keep mounting) and I was nearing my turn around tree. I decided to speed up and sprint the last bit. (Please interpret that sprint in the context of a 45 year old woman who spent her 30’s eating donuts and sitting on her increasingly expanding bum.) And just as I reached maximum speed, my toe hit a stone stuck in the ground.
As I began to fall everything went slo-mo. It was weird. I had tons of time to think things through. I thought- I do not want to fall on that hard, gravely ground. I thought- I should just try to run a bit faster and gain my balance. So I did that funny cartoon thing when they find that they have run a bit too far and are now past the end of the cliff and hanging, against all of the laws of physics, in mid air. I started flailing my arms and legs as I was propelling myself ahead. It was sad no one was around because I’m sure it would have been very amusing to watch.
What all of my flailing did was to prolong the inevitable and give me that little bit more momentum so that when I finally hit the ground I managed to slide along it for quite a substantial distance leaving behind large amounts of skin cells in my wake. I stood up slowly, picked the sand and gravel out of my teeth, and hobbled home.
For all of the magic in the world of science, at the very least by the year 2009 they should have been able to stop this de-rubberisation effect. How I long for those rubbery days.