The Bionic Parent

The 3.8 picoseconds where the boys is actually still.

 

A recent article on the BBC pondered on whether or not people would choose to have amputations so their birth limbs could be replaced with bionic ones.

Apart from sounding like a brilliant idea in itself (who doesn’t occasionally wonder what it would be like to have super strength) it opens up a huge amount of possibilities for elective bioengineering for parents.

Here are a number of suggestions that will make parenting easier, safer and less bloody knackering.

Radar.

One of the major leitmotifs on this blog is my son’s unfailing ability to cause himself bodily harm. Mobility has only made this worse. What I need is a high-fidelity radar station in my head to as to be able to track threats as and when they approach, intercept with speed and check for the all clear.

I did think of putting in ‘eyes in the back of my head’ but that would be gross. Also, as a teacher I already have those. Or as is actually the case, a better ability to identify reflective surfaces than teenagers – yes Timmy, I know you’re playing an online game even though your laptop is facing away from me. Don’t lie to me Timmy. You’re on level 6. You just missed that double jump. That’s right Timmy, I am a telepath.

Timmy doesn’t realise I can see his screen reflected in the window and believes I have preternatural abilities. The idiot.

Hydraulically Powered Lower Back.

The boy is starting to get quite large and heavy. This is mainly due to the sides of beef and protein shakes we feed him. From a trough.

As a consequence picking him up requires a significant amount of core strength which, due to an allergy to stomach crunches, I am lacking in.

Every time I lift the boy I waltz with fate and a slipped disc.

Having some extra power in that area would also allow me to spend more time throwing him up in the air and catching him to sounds of glorious baby laughter.

Obviously, you would have to pitch the level of thrust just right or else the baby’s heading into orbit. I’m not sure the fine people of the International Space Station are quite ready for the sight of the boy hurtling towards them at Mach 7 with a massive grin on his chops, saliva streaming out behind him like a comet of gross.

Caffeine Cartridges.

Some kind of sub-dermal area where a high strength canister of medical-grade caffeine can be inserted – like a refill for a glade plug in – would allow continual alertness at any time of the day or night. If this also stimulated the adrenal glad for an extra boost that would be great.

Of course, downsides might include being permanently on edge, jittery like a recovering smack head and/or an early death but at least you wouldn’t fall asleep in your dinner every evening.

Pressure Hose In Index Finger.

I’m a big fan of Japanese toilets. The feeling of cleanliness is, frankly, unbeatable. Why then should I messing around with twenty-seven square metres of naturally scented baby wipes every time the boy decides to fill his nappy?

No, a far better option would be to just hose the mess away. Although you would have to choose to invest in a wet room or get used to hosing your child down in the street.

Either way works.

Baby Wipe Dispenser.

Perhaps high pressured hosing isn’t your thing. Maybe it’s a bit ‘foreign’ for your tastes. A solution presents itself right in front of the face.

Do we really need two nostrils? Why not repurpose one as a handy baby wipe dispenser?

How many times have parents started to remove a nappy that looks like the Somme only to remember that the baby wipes are on the other side of the room and/or at the bottom of the changing bag?

At this point a unique stance is adopted whereby one hand, gripping the ankles, lifts your child’s faeces caked buttocks out of the open nappy whilst, in the most extreme yoga position imaginable you lean across the room to where the baby wipes are kept. With your free hand you desperately scrabble through the nappy bags, spare baby clothes, nappies, nappy rash cream, empty miniatures of gin to find the wipes, muttering darkly as you do.

This pose (I’ve called it Warrior Poo) is maintained whilst desperately trying to prevent you accidentally dragging your baby from the changing mat to the floor in what would be a literal shit storm.

Far easier to have the ability to pull wipes directly from your face whenever needed.

Conclusion?

Surely it is only a matter of time before these and other improvements to the human body are made. I for one look forward to a brave new world whereby everyday parenting hassles are made easier by modifying our bodies to look like the inner workings of a washing machine.

Obviously some people might just look at the above suggestions and say “well, that’s nothing that being more attentive and/or organised couldn’t solve” but they’ll soon come round to the cybernetic way of thinking.

After all…resistance is futile.