Simple pleasures

No. 1 was getting ready for his Friday baseball game when I asked him where his cup was. He didn’t know, which doesn’t surprise me because, like his father, he tends to explode when he comes home… there’s just stuff everywhere. Anyway. It occurred to me that he likely hadn’t been wearing his cup for the last few games.

He found the cup and was trying to put it in his slider shorts, but since it was hot and humid and he was trying to put on a bunch of baseball clothes, it was tough. Mom to the rescue. A few years from now, this would be considered inappropriate.

So, as I’m helping No. 1 get, um, situated, The Mr. walks in.

“I hate wearing a cup,” No. 1 says as he adjusts himself.

“Well,” The Mr. starts. “It’s better than getting hit in the ding ding.”

(I should mention that “ding ding” is not a term normally used in our house to describe the male anatomy.)

No. 1 looked at me as if to ask if it was OK to laugh. Of course, the look on his face—not to mention the term “ding ding”—made me bust out laughing, which made No. 1 turn red and start laughing. Hilarity ensued. He couldn’t stop saying “ding ding” (Ok, neither could The Mr.!) and I couldn’t stop laughing at him laughing and saying “ding ding.” Ah, the things that amuse us.