Throw Down

People like to give pregnant women advice. They like to advise the husband, too. This morning, the security guard at my office passed this one along:

"When my kids were, you know, still in the belly, the doctor asked if she was getting any exercise. I said she was walking. He said it is not enough. She needs more... You know, for, like... To make the delivery easier. You know?"

Here he pointed at his belly. I nodded knowingly.

"The doctor said to take a box of matches. You know, the matches that come in a box?"

Here he mimed striking a match against a box. I nodded again to let him know I'm hip to the whole match-in-a-box thing.

"Take the box of matches, and throw them all over the floor. Really spread them out. Then tell her to pick them up."

Here he mimed a person with a large belly bending over, picking up a match, and putting it in a box. Then he repeated the maneuver, in case I hadn't properly appreciated the amount of exercise involved in picking up an entire box of matches, one by one.

"Picking up the matches, it is very good. It makes it easier."

For my part, I'm not sure that throwing a box of matches on the floor and telling Mrs. Rodius to pick them up would make anything much easier. In fact, I'm pretty sure it would have the opposite effect.