Ever wonder what it would be like to put your teenager in a life-sized hamster ball and then send it barreling down a hill? Me, too! In fact, that’s been a lifelong dream of mine ever since I brought babies into this world!

Well, fortunately, last weekend I got the opportunity to launch one of my kids as the gooey center of a big steel ball when we went to a friend’s house for dinner. This particular friend (his name is Zafod Beatlebrox, and yes that really is his legal name) is an artist/inventor and lives on 40 acres of his own private property, so he’s pretty much free to do what he wants. This wonderful isolation, as you can imagine, became the starting point for some raucous fun, especially after we’d all (the adults, I mean) pounded down a few drinks.

So sets the scene when my teenage son hopped into one of Zafod’s patented inventions, the Zolo™. You strap in your feet and waist, but your hands are free to hang on (or not) as the ball succumbs to the influence of gravity. Or if the hill is gentle, you can get a bunch of wild and crazy aging hippies* to push you. I’m guessing that anyone over 40 should also have a barf bag strapped to their face. (I say, “I’m guessing” because I wasn’t heroic enough to get in that thing. I left that up to my son.)

And even if you are young and stupid, it’s probably a NOT good idea to take a tumble right after you’ve ingested a meal or anything that expects to be digested within a reasonable amount of time once it hits your stomach. Please, I’m begging you, partake when you’re void of food. The last thing you want to do is subject your audience to a ghastly Technicolor yawn.

One final note, notice the huge bonfire burning in the background. We’d just torched a couple of old couches, because…you know, they were just sitting there, and um, well, we had to burn something. Besides, what the heck is a couch doing outside in the first place? If a piece of interior furniture is foolish enough to sneak out of the safety and comfort of a suburban living room then it deserves whatever fate befalls upon it. (Hey, that ought to be a bumper sticker!)

So without further adieu, here is my son, Quinn, going Zolo.

*Wild and crazy aging hippies not included

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Stacy Dymalski is a stand-up comic who gave up the glamorous life of coach travel, smokey comedy clubs, and heckling drunks for the glamourous life of raising kids (who happen to be bigger hecklers than the drunks). This blog is her new stage.

For more of Stacy’s comedy check out her hilarious book Confessions of a Band Geek Mom available in paperback and on Kindle on Amazon.com.