Ninja Kids and the Gonad Assault

Two balls, safe from random punching

In what must be a first, I’m blogging about my balls. They hurt (again) and not because of anything pleasant.

Since he was tall enough to walk and strong enough to swing a punch, the boy has been almost demented in his desire to punch me in the balls. Perhaps it’s his way of telling us he wanted to be an only child. If it is, Fifi is evidence his approach failed and philosophically perhaps he should have considered some sort of drawing or painting instead.
The most memorable ball whack came on our visit to the Chiltern Open Air Museum. It was a cool and overcast day and since we arrived there at opening time, due to a typical Fifi early start, we were the first and pretty much the only visitors in there when we were hailed by the head of the friends association. I only got as far as putting my hand out to shake his because at that point, the boy stepped out smartly from behind me, punched me hard in the balls and vanished. His vanishing wasn’t exactly of Houdini standards mind, since somewhat involuntarily I decided to double up and writhe on the floor in agony. Goodness only knows what the head of the friends association thought about it all. Perhaps he was just glad his balls were unmolested.
It happened twice today too, which was both baffling, painful and sad too. We’ve had a great day today, paddling in the sea, running up and down the beach, digging holes, putting 2p’s in 2p machines at the amusement arcade and sitting on the front eating fish and chips. Most kids would show their thanks with a cuddle or a thank you. Mine showed his love by punching me in the balls. This was a feat he repeated whilst getting ready for bed, which was all the more baffling as he was in the process of telling his Uncle about all the coins he’d saved from the clutches of the 2p machine.
So now I have aching balls again and a sense of frustration* because it’s not something that the boy does all the time, or even a lot of the time but he does it often enough that it’s blooming irritating. I’ve tried all sorts of approaches to stop him doing it and he does seem genuinely sorry afterwards, he just wont stop punching me in the balls.
*and not the usual sort of frustration involving their balls that blokes get either

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