Boys Can't Fly

Some concepts seem…implied…superfluous…logical…

And it’s in that moment that you think it not necessary to clarify concepts, that I will test the very laws of nature to TRY to prove you wrong.

So to answer the question, “Can boys fly?” would seem…implied…superfluous…logical.

But I’m four, I’m curious, I test limits, I defy the laws of gravity, I AM  BRENNAN!

Here’s how that plan went down:

Meijer bags looped on arms (to serve as wings)…CHECK.

Climb to highest perch in the house (back of the couch)…CHECK.

Eyeball target (ottoman located approximately 12 feet from couch & just beyond wood coffee table)…CHECK

Flap feverishly (to start take-off)…CHECK.

Deep-knee squat (for ample altitude)…CHECK.

LAUNCH…CHECK!!!

Imagine my surprise, when instead of the graceful touchdown upon the ottoman that I envisioned, I came crashing down in a blaze of glory face-first onto the edge of the coffee table.

No tears.  No yelling.  Just the pissed-off declaration of “I DIDN’T MAKE IT!” left my lips.

Newton's law of universal gravitation states that any two bodies in the universe attract each other with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.

For those of you who aren’t a learned scholar like myself, let me sum up Sir Isaac Newton in my own words…

Brennan’s law of gravity states that when a body (like a boy) is obsessed with the idea of flying over another body (like a table) it matters very little what the product of their masses is because the stubborn four year old boy will 100% of the time try to clear that table via the airways and the result will 100% of the time be an injury, regardless of the distance between them.

And through the swollen lid of my bruised eye, I saw the thought-bubble floating from my Mother’s face that had only three letters hovering in its space, “W. T. F.?!?!”

But regardless of her bewilderment, my Mom still rushed to my aid, scooped me up and started the concerned inspection of injuries, softly uttering just three words…

Boys. Can’t. Fly.