We played paddle ball last night at Cub Scout camp. My six-year old hooligan and I rallied back and forth until I missed one of his serves.
The ping-pong-like-ball went straight for and hit my privates. It was no big deal however my hooligan, in a loud shrieking voice, announced…
“Oh Mom, that ball hit you right in your wiener!”
Okay, but there were men in the group, who I barely know, that totally heard my hooligan’s announcement. They did not even crack a smile. Instead they just uncomfortably looked away, like oops the secret is out. Kids don’t lie and your kid has totally seen your wiener and he just told everyone about it.
What happened to the parental code of commiserating together when your kid says something weird? The whole high-fiven’ camaraderie and the laughter you share together when something like this is thrown out there. Nothing, just silence.
But the worst of the worst part was my immediate response to these men, “I’m really a girl you know”.
That’s what I said. What kind of lame-o, lack-of-a-brain response was that? Why was I trying to defend the comment instead of just laughing it off. Because I was guilty of a hidden wiener? Completely lame on my part.
None of these men were having any of it. It was like a large white elephant was tip-toeing around the grass and they all just wanted it to go away.
I’m not being paranoid, but later in the evening I SWEAR I saw two of the men checking out my throat for any outward signs of an Adam’s Apple. I know they were, those not-crackin’-a-smile-fathers.
Tomorrow night…tight shorts to prove I’m not packin’ a package.