Laughing so hard that my incision hurts

A few days before Emmett was born, my friends Elaine and Chas gave me a copy of Dale Hrabi's The Perfect Baby Handbook: A Guide for Excessively Motivated Parents. This turned out to be a great book to bring with me to the hospital, since my attention span was too limited to handle reading a novel or anything longer than one page at a time. The book is hilarious--there's a bit about naming your baby after Ikea product names (we really did consider this, by the way!), a section on going beyond co-sleeping by adding in things like "co-unicycling," and there's even the very useful suggestion that one can get a child to go to sleep by boring him or her with dull art. In other words, it's just the sort of book that I wish I'd written.

Few things in it have amused me nearly as much as the diagram on the left, however. I keep showing this page to everyone who drops by the house (and if you've dropped by more than once, I've probably shown it to you more than once). I first saw this diagram a day or two after Emmett's birth, and I discovered the hard way that laughing really hard after a c-section is extremely painful. In case you can't read the captions, here's what it says:
"1. Using a sixty-eight-foot Balinese cloth and a small construction crane, lash on your infant, his car seat, and Dr. William Sears, noted baby-wearing authority.
2. Balance a log on head for a note of third-world authenticity.
3. Dash off to baby's play date."

The first baby carrier that I bought was a Moby wrap. I'd been to a babywearing class back in July, tried on a Moby wrap, stuck the practice baby doll in it, and loved it. When I bought one of my own, suddenly it seemed like it was about 10 times longer than the one I'd tried on. It definitely seemed long enough to strap on not only the baby, but also a large piece of baby gear and maybe another person. I imagine I'll get more adventurous with the wrap once I feel a little less sensitive around the area of my incision.