frogs and snails and puppy dog’s tails

In one court, Hubby and friends were playing basketball, grunting and shoving and ramming into one another and exchanging stinky manly horsey sweat as they fought for the grimy ball.

In another, strapping little boys were also playing basketball, grunting and shoving and ramming into one another and exchanging stinky boyish pony sweat as they fought for the grimy ball while theirΒ Mommies and Daddies watched and cheered.

One friend of hubby’s remarked, ain’t it difficult to be parents (referring to the stage mommies and daddies).

Yeah, grunt, grunt, hubby agreed. Others agreed.

Another friend sez, well, better to be a chaperone at a basketball game than at a ballet class.

Yeah!!! Grunt!!! Grunt!!! Hubby agreed. Others agreed.

Which made hubby all the more victorious when he found out that we were having a boy. He thought he was safe from being a stage poppa to a ballerina.

But if baby wants to be the next Rudolf Nureyev, why stop him, right?

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