The Cup
One day last week Andrew informed me he needed to start wearing a cup when he was at practice or games. I feel like this topic, is one for his father. I am no expert on what constitutes wearing a cup or what situation demands a boy to wear one. I know it is recommended, but let's face it, this generation has no fun for all the safety precautions we're always taking for them. I suggested Andrew talk to his Dad about it. I don't know if he did or not, but I am guessing he did not.
For whatever reason, we happened to have a spare cup just laying around (actually it was in Doug's coach's bag. I had to buy it last spring, in case the tournament Andrew was playing in, insisted on him wearing one). Andrew discovered it on Sunday and has been driving me crazy with it since.
He spent the better part of the afternoon saying, "Hey Mom, throw this ball at me, so I can see if this cup works!" WHAT?!!! Who does that?! Ok. I know who does that. Boys. Not mom's. We don't do that weird stuff. Just like we don't play paint ball, or throw things at ourselves to see if it hurts. We're smart enough to know- it's gonna hurt, I don't need to try it to see how much it's going to hurt. I promise you he asked me probably 10 times. I told him to go ask Daddy to throw it at him (besides Doug's aim is better than mine. I may have been aiming for the cup- but Lord only knows where the ball would have actually hit. He would have needed body armor, a face mask, and a helmet to protect him from my throw).
I'm not sure if he lost interest in deciding if it works, or if Doug really threw the ball at him, but I haven't heard about that for a few days. Now, I just find the stupid thing EVERYWHERE! Yesterday I found it on the kitchen table. Yes folks. The sports cup he wears . . . down there, was on my kitchen table. Today it's been on the bathroom counter, the couch, and various other places. Well, as we're walking in the door tonight from practice, he's holding the cup up to his face and I say, "ANDREW! Get that cup away from your face! It was near your sweaty . . . penis!" (I have struggled with what to call his anatomy- it's either too vulgar, too childish, or too scientific. I have gone scientific lately). Doug is horrified. Well Andrew falls apart. He went Beevis and Butthead on us. "Heh heh heh heh, he said, penis. Heh heh heh" It is a funny word, and I have established I am immature, and so of course, I am laughing too. Doug is not laughing, and now he's giving me the stink eye. Andrew and I are falling apart. (Poor Doug. He has a sad, lonely role to play: the mature parent.)
All I can do is shake my head. It's only going to get to worse. Boys!
For whatever reason, we happened to have a spare cup just laying around (actually it was in Doug's coach's bag. I had to buy it last spring, in case the tournament Andrew was playing in, insisted on him wearing one). Andrew discovered it on Sunday and has been driving me crazy with it since.
He spent the better part of the afternoon saying, "Hey Mom, throw this ball at me, so I can see if this cup works!" WHAT?!!! Who does that?! Ok. I know who does that. Boys. Not mom's. We don't do that weird stuff. Just like we don't play paint ball, or throw things at ourselves to see if it hurts. We're smart enough to know- it's gonna hurt, I don't need to try it to see how much it's going to hurt. I promise you he asked me probably 10 times. I told him to go ask Daddy to throw it at him (besides Doug's aim is better than mine. I may have been aiming for the cup- but Lord only knows where the ball would have actually hit. He would have needed body armor, a face mask, and a helmet to protect him from my throw).
I'm not sure if he lost interest in deciding if it works, or if Doug really threw the ball at him, but I haven't heard about that for a few days. Now, I just find the stupid thing EVERYWHERE! Yesterday I found it on the kitchen table. Yes folks. The sports cup he wears . . . down there, was on my kitchen table. Today it's been on the bathroom counter, the couch, and various other places. Well, as we're walking in the door tonight from practice, he's holding the cup up to his face and I say, "ANDREW! Get that cup away from your face! It was near your sweaty . . . penis!" (I have struggled with what to call his anatomy- it's either too vulgar, too childish, or too scientific. I have gone scientific lately). Doug is horrified. Well Andrew falls apart. He went Beevis and Butthead on us. "Heh heh heh heh, he said, penis. Heh heh heh" It is a funny word, and I have established I am immature, and so of course, I am laughing too. Doug is not laughing, and now he's giving me the stink eye. Andrew and I are falling apart. (Poor Doug. He has a sad, lonely role to play: the mature parent.)
All I can do is shake my head. It's only going to get to worse. Boys!
You just gave me a glimpse into my future and now I am scared. Super funny story, though. I love reading your posts. You write with such description I feel as though I am in the room with you. For the record, I would have been laughing, too. :)
ReplyDeleteDon't be scared (except for the cup on the kitchen table part). Andrew makes me laugh all the time!!
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