Boys, Boy Parts, & Stupid Games

WHOA!

WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA

Last night I had to use my MOM VOICE - the loud, screechy, sit-your-ass-down-before-I-ground-you-forever tones that set children the world around on edge. After twenty some years at this parenting game I've even mastered "The Look" and "The Point", things you see sweet little southern old ladies execute flawlessly causing grown men to quiver in their boots. I don't know that I have that effect over grown-ups other than the ones that actually emerged from my very own uterus. With time, maybe?

It seems my sons, ages 20 and 12, have taken up a new past-time - sucker punching each other in the crotch. Oh it's great fun, don't you know? Toppling your six foot brother into a twitching blob on the livingroom floor or catching your twerpy little brother in mid-flight running across the bedroom. Yes good times.

NOT!!!!

Dammit, this gonad attack could seriously alter my future as a grandmother (not that I want or need that to happen ANY time in the near future. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE wait. PLEASE! And by all means, WEAR A CONDOM if you can't wait. PLEASE).

Besides, I really do not want to deal with nut sack injuries that might require me to apply ice, extract lodged zippers and certainly not a trip to the ER. It's really bad enough that I happened to be present when the nurse removed a catheter - something a woman does not ever want to witness with her grown, man-sized son. Really. I could use a little Etch-A-Sketch eraser action to get that out of my memory.

I've mulled this over with several other mothers and we all agree that this qualifies as "stupid boy behavior." This may, however, take the cake going beyond TYPICAL stupid boy behavior.

Whatever the reasoning, whatever the pleasure or sense of revenge, it is quite clear that my sons are braindead both above and below the belt.