Occasionally around the office water cooler, I have heard my peers talk about their "hour long" therapy sessions. I have only ever participated in 30 minute sessions myself, and have always found their retelling of tired muscles and sore baby bodies to be all a bit overly dramatic. A standard session is thirty minutes. How could just an additional half hour wreak such havoc on toddler morale? Well today, due to a scheduling error, I found out. What transpired over the course of the next hour can only be described quite simply as torture. I was forced to ride on a swing, play on squishy stairs, bang on a baby piano, and roll around on a yoga ball. All without any breaks for snacks, bottles, or to slobber on my favorite Mardi Gras beads. As if all that playing wasn't cruel enough, I was then subjected to hugs, adoring faces, and cuddles. I screamed and pouted in defeat and drooled all over both therapists, but alas, my cries of protest and exhaustion went unnoticed. It wasn't until I became silly with fatigue, pushing out my belly, blowing bubbles at all who would listen, and passing gas, that I was granted respite. I was huffing and puffing and even attempted to fall asleep face down on my yoga mat. My brothers and sisters in arms were telling the truth and I was wrong to ever have doubted. An hour is just too horrific for any baby to endure when it comes to therapy.
Thoroughly winded,
Mr. Baby
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