Wait, I said massage?
It's actually called "being kicked by your wiggly nursing one-year-old in your right bicep muscle that's tight from working out".
Is it sad that feels kinda good? I mean, really, who's gonna work out my kinks for me? I'm still waiting for my personal photographer to show up, and wherever is that chaffeur? I have no idea (Hi, Ed, honey!).
I'll take a few good leg whacks in the arm from Libby. After all, I just realized that I don't really work out my bicep muscles at the gym. They're tight from - you guessed it! - holding one sweet little sugar lump of a baby (very worth it!).
Kick away, child!