Let Me Tell You About My Lawsuit(s)
By
November 20, 2015

A Manhattan woman recently decided to sue her nephew for giving her a flying bear hug. At his eighth birthday party a few years ago, he leapt at her and landed so hard that they both fell over and her wrist broke. So, rather than just awkwardly entering puberty, he’s apparently also liable for more than $125,000 in damages—in part because, according to testimony, she can no longer hold an hors d’oeuvre plate.

I understand the litigious impulse. When my son was born, I thought seriously about suing him for ruining my vagina. Everyone says the lady bits eventually go back to normal, but how is that possible? Some things, like Laffy Taffy or a LIVESTRONG bracelet, can’t be unstretched.

But then I realized that suing my son would be insane. After all, he only has three major assets: a purple hippo named Myrtle, a blue whale named Miriam, and an as-yet-unnamed blanket. I know these are his most important assets because I have tried to get him to go to sleep without them.

Furthermore, the woman who sued her nephew lost. The jury sided with the now-12-year old, convinced by his “kids will be kids” defense. I can imagine a jury deciding that “fetuses will be fetuses,” especially when it comes to traveling down the birth canal.

You know who really deserves to be sued? My kid’s daycare class. Not the daycare, mind you, which is great. But his classmates. All 13 of them. All 30-odd inches and 27-or-so pounds of each and every one. All often clad in miniature track suits and down vests.

No! I refuse to be deterred by their itty bitty sneakers and teeny tiny overalls in my pursuit of justice. I will remain impervious to their big eyes and jack-o-lantern smiles, super-cute curls and zest for waving to dogs. I will not let their overarching adorableness become exhibit A.

The facts are as follows. After a glorious cold-free summer, my son got sick the Tuesday after Labor Day. The whole class appears to be passing the same germs from one to another, as if the germs were a bong and the classroom a low-lit dorm circa 1995. Come to think of it, there are an awful lot of pillows at this daycare. And was that a flannel shirt tied around a teacher’s waist?

Truth be told, though, my son hasn’t quite learned to share. If little Isabelle or Jaden could talk, no doubt they’d tell him, “Dude, stop bogarting.” I’m almost positive my son’s nose has been running for the past 43 straight days. Whatever. This cold started somewhere. With a judge’s help, I will find the negligent microbe and Purell the fuck out of it.

My poor baby. He wanders around the house wheezing and huffing, his arms outstretched, ready to swat at any hand that gets within a foot of his face. The person who invented zombies had to have been the parent of a child in daycare.

So here we go: Allen v. Brown Bears Class of 2036. Somebody needs to take the blame, compensate me financially, or, at the very least, reimburse me for the kazillion packs of tissues we as a family have gone through. I can’t hold an hors d’oeuvre plate because I’m constantly wiping noses.

A friend on Facebook mentioned that his youngster began coughing on September 23, aka the first day of fall. The dad referred to it as “Rotting Leaves Cough.” I tried searching to check how many likes his post received, since I want to be accurate in my documentation for future reference/depositions. But Facebook keeps timing out. I guess it received a lot!

If only there were a playdate in our future. Because if my son got the cough, there’s no end to who could be sued: my neighbors, for not clearing their leaves. Mark Zuckerberg, for decreasing the need for me to see my friend in real life since I get all his news from my Facebook feed. Also for maybe breaking my internet. OshKosh B’gosh, for not yet inventing a material that’s both fashion-forward and rhinovirus-repellent. The earth, for the changing of the seasons.

Sounds promising, right? Dare I say “class action?” 

 
 

The Higgs Weldon is a humor website with funny stories, articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was started by the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please read and enjoy our jokes!


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