Might as well be walking on the sun

Summer has brought me busy weekends, visits with out-of-town friends and family, and the onset of the Baby Heat Factor (BHF).

This is my first full summer with a kid on tow, a fact of which my sweat glands already are keenly aware. Those of you who've procreated know what I'm talking about: The BHF adds about 15 degrees to the temperature on any summer day.

Children present a host of heat-heightening activities, such as:

• Holding my son at barbecues while he thrusts his body to and fro like a Backstreet Boy.
  
• Keeping my body completely taut while lifting him in and out of the car seat in hopes of not waking him.
  
• Using one hand to hold my son, the other to feed him projectiles (sorry, that's "food" in layman's terms) and my hips to avoid said projectiles.
  

I can't believe I ever used to complain during the summer months, back when I could comfortably sit down with a cold Dr. Pepper and enjoy the warmth.  Now the heat is my worst enemy, a loud-mouthed fiend that deftly mixes sweat and deceit.

Oh summer, I will conquer you again — after school, at the flagpole, probably about 15 years from now. But for now the BHF rules with heavy-handed, formula-drenched authority.