Note to my neighbors: What you heard through the pipes in your bathroom was not what you thought you heard.
During tonight’s pre-dinner hand-scrubbing, Henry was playing with two small plastic balls. The joy he felt at being allowed to bring these balls with him to the sink prompted the following series of enthusiastic declarations.
I’m going to wash my balls!
My balls are all wet now.
My balls are so slippery! Slippery with soap.
I will rinse my balls.
My balls are all nice and dry.
Now my balls are so clean.
Thank you and goodnight.










March 29, 2005
Reader Comments (46)
My husband has a computer mouse with the roller ball thingy-ma-jig. Everyday my son, anywhere from 10 months to 15 months at the time, would get the ball off this desk and play with it. Each day my husband would come in from work and look for it so he could play on the computer. One day it was sticky where my sweet son had licked it after eating something...sucker, candy, dogfood, who knows?....
My husband turns to my son (my mother is in the room now, you just have to picture this) and says,
"son, have you been licking my ball?"
My mother had to get up and leave! We could hear her laughing in the other room. She is a very religious, churchy-churchy kind of lady so it was funny to us just to see her lose her cool!
Ok, that was my ball story!
He had to wait until I stopped convulsing in fits of laughter on the floor before he answered me.
It's okay. I'm alright. Really, I am. It was worth wrenching my back.
I'll send you the bill.
The instant it was out of my mouth I realized what I had said. So did the teenager at the window. I just about died!
Okay, no, keep going. I love it.
I don't have a ball or a woody story. But I do have this:
I was in a production (high school but humor me and pretend it was off Broadway, okay?) of Stout-Hearted Men, playing the man hating school board member Miss Hatchett. On our first read-through, I was addressing the sweet Melody Trueheart about men and how evil they are.
My line was "Eschew the company of men for they are the minions of Satan."
Yeah, I read it as minions of Satin. After much laughter, our director, Miss L said "It's Satan, Dana, but they do like Satin as well."
My 3-year old announced to me that she LOVES to eat balls. Then she tells my husband, "I love crunchy balls, dad. I love them!" and then goes on with, "Mmmmmm...I sure do love balls!"
She was eating popcorn, and the "balls" were the kernals.
I'm so tempted to write a guitar accompaniment to the lyrics.
must resist.
But this -- the balls thing -- anything I could add to this beautiful post would merely be redundant, except maybe for this: try adding twin 15 year-old boys & a 10 year-old boy into the mix when the 3 year-old talks about "big balls" "wet balls" "my balls" "ugly balls" "colorful balls" "dirty balls" and it's a wonder a normal conversation ever gets finished in this house. Thank you ALL so much for all of this -- I am at peace now.
Tell me you have a book coming out soon?!