July 24, 2006

Boys and Their Balls

We were on the way to church and I was trying to get myself into a spiritual frame of mind. Unfortunately, my boys had more pressing matters, such as school and anatomy, to discuss.

“Mom, how many days ’til school starts?” Porter asked, interrupting my reverie.

“Twenty-two,” I replied.

“That means it’s only twenty-one days ’til our birthday,” said Drew.

“I bet one of you will get Miss Meggs for second grade. She’s the meanest teacher in the school,” Finn said authoritatively.

“How would you know?” I asked. “You didn’t even have her.”

“When I was in second grade, Anna Peabody pushed Mason Wrigley into a desk, and he fell into it, and Miss Meggs grounded him from recess for two weeks, but didn’t do anything to Anna. True story,” Finn said.

“Well, when I was in third grade, I got the teacher everyone was afraid of, and Mrs. Scott turned out to be my favorite teacher ever,” I commented.

“No offense, Mom, but that was, like, so long ago,” Finn said. “Teachers nowadays discriminate against boys just because we run around and trip on things more than girls, with their feeble, scrawny minds.”

“Girls’ minds are just as strong as boys’ minds are,” I said haughtily.

“Ow!” Porter yelled. “Drew punched me in the nuts!”

“Testicles,” Bill and I corrected together.

“That’s their real name?” Porter asked. “Testicles? That sounds much grosser than nuts. Or balls.”

“Testicles. That’s their real name,” I sighed.

“Hey, what are my testicles for, anyway?” Porter asked. “What, Mom?”

“They’re for me to hit!” Finn yelled, landing a well-aimed punch.

Porter started crying.

“No nut-punching!” Bill decreed.

“You mean testicle-punching,” I whispered.

“No testicle-punching!” Bill shouted.

The car was silent for a moment. Porter gradually stopped sniffling.

“So, Mom?” Porter asked.

“Yes?”

“What are these little balls by my wiener for?”

“Penis,” Bill and I recited together.

“Okay, what are these little balls by my penis for?”

“Mommy has a book that tells you about them,” Bill volunteered. I elbowed him.

“He’s asking about his nuts, not about sex,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Don’t you get on that whole subject. He’s too young.”

“I was just trying to help,” Bill muttered back. “You’re so great at those talks.”

“What’s up with all the whispering?” Finn asked. “It’s rude to whisper in front of other people. I thought we were talking about testicles.” He turned to his little brothers. “Guys, seriously, I think testicles are there for people to aim at, like targets. That’s why you wear a cup when you play football and baseball.”

“I think my testicles hold my pee,” Drew volunteered.

“They’re also used for playing pocket pool,” Bill added. I swatted him.

“Pay no attention to your father. He is making up stuff,” I said. I glared at Bill.

“So what do these balls– I mean testicles do? What, Mom?” Porter inquired again.

We were almost at church, and I know God tells us to be truthful, but I couldn’t see myself introducing the concept of semen to the boys just then.

“Yeah, Mom, what are testicles for?” Drew added.

Under such pressure, I gave the only answer I could think of.

“They’re like decorations for your penis,” I said. “One on each side.”