Harlan secured the helmet over his face, tightening it down.
“Alright, it’s in place and the apparatus is operational!”
His wife, Marisa, looked at him nervously.
“Are you sure that you’ll be able to do this correctly?”
“Of course! It’ll be alright. He’ll grow out of this phase, hopefully.”
He slowly sauntered over to the table, and pulled out two pairs of pliers.
“Honey, did you ever think that we’d have to deal with a child who’s poo makes a paper mill smell like a rose garden?”
“Nope, but I didn’t expect to have a child in the first place. Miracles do happen.”
“And I wouldn’t trade it for the world, honey!”