Cover your head
Head protection. It only makes sense. After all, if you’re halfway up the local version of a skyscraper, and a hot rivet falls from above (not the sky – just a floor or two up) then that tin pot covering the bald spot is probably a good idea. Ditto the soldier in a foxhole; if you stick it into the freefire zone and the lead is soft enough, it could provide a good story around the table in your local legion for the next half-century.
Sports have taken a whole other turn, though. I’ve always agreed that helmets and football make a perfect match. The mask form helps to identify the position you are supposed to play, or something like that. In hockey, I know that ice is hard. You fall, you bruise. But today I went shopping with son #3 for a helmet, and the sport of choice is snowboarding. Snow is soft. Think feathers and foam and white fuzzy stuff. Snow. You fall, you sink. Trees are not part of the equation.
I’m a stickler for saftety, so we now own yet another helmet. The fitting process involved a young clerk asking “Is it too tight?” and son #3 responding with a “not really.” The box is now ours. Thankfully we hit a 50% sale, because that $90 that initially flashed on the cash register display did give me pause. Afterwards, I was told that “sh*t” means the same thing in French as in English. I didn’t know that!
I tried the head cover on, in the safety of our living room which did set the dog to barking wildly. My efforts to convince the kid to wear it for the evening didn’t work, even when I claimed that he could pretend to be Commander Keen.
