Denver Ink
GET OFF DADDY'S PRIVATE AREA!
This morning I uttered the words, “get off Daddy’s private area!” at least 5 times. No, this command was not directed towards my wife—I’ll spare you any more details on that front. This command was directed towards my daughters after they jumped in bed with us this morning and decided to play Spiderman vs Green Goblin Death Battle.
As any dad knows, small children must acquire some DNA that implants the inherent ability to know to use daddy’s package as a punching bag. If I had a nickel for every inadvertent knee, elbow, foot or full-speed running head-butt I’ve taken to the junk, I’d have a shit load of nickels. At this point, I think my balls have cauliflower ear.
Since I have yet to embrace the tattoo craze yet, I’ve decided to jump into the fray and get a piece like this done to scare those pesky little testicle commandos away for good. I wonder if it will work.
Great. You don’t want to be the last soccer mom or soccer dad to get a tat.
I’m actually not getting one, it’s a joke. You must be one of those washed up grunge rockers that think you invented tats. Let it go, bro.
It’s those earring things that stretch the ear all out that would prevent me from punching your junk.
Doesn’t gravity already do a number on our bodies? We have to give it more to work with??
Amie aka MammaLoves´s last blog ..Eco Wo-Man! Eco Wo-Man!
I would hope that being a mature adult would be enough of a reason for YOU to not punch my junk.
um. a tat… on your junk? LOL that will def scare them