The box

There’s something that nobody ever warns you about before you have kids. And that is that kids (or at least both of my boys) have a quite incredible ability to – well, let’s be quite blunt about this – bring their limbs into painful contact with my bollocks.

The number of times that both of the boys have inadvertently trodden on, kicked, punched, sat on, climbed up, slapped, poked or prodded me in the happy sacs is beyond counting.

I suppose kids just don’t know how delicate that area of the male anatomy is. One can only hope that they learn to be more careful before mine becomes completely numb with the battering they get.

I’ve been thinking that maybe I need to get a protective box to wear around the house. I could put it on when I get home, and play with the kids without fear of a well aimed hoof hitting the danglies. When the kids go to bed, I could take it off for a bit. But when I went to bed, I’d need to put it on again, since they sometimes crawl into (and all over) our bed during the night. And obviously I’d need to keep it on before going to work in the morning.

Better make sure it’s off before I go to work though. Wouldn’t be a good look walking into the office with that down your pants.

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