Him: You know, Mom, when I play tackle football in the fall, I’ll be wearing a cup.
Me: Really? You mean one you drink out of? (Hoping to get a laugh)
Him: (Rolling his eyes) Noooooooo, a cup. You know, that thing you wear to protect your privates.
Me: Oh, that. You sure you need one?
Him: Uhhh, YESSSSSSSSSSSSS. I don’t want to get hit in the weiner.
The joys of raising little men.