D'oh, my balls.

Yesterday our dog went racing across my daughter as she reclined on the sofa watching television. The dog managed to plant a paw in a sensitive part of my daughter's body, to which she reared up in pain and yelled, "Oh, my balls!" I looked at my daughter and said, "You don't have balls, honey." She looked at me and said, "I thought balls was another word for private parts." I explained that, no, only boys have balls and, even then, it's sometimes questionable.

"So, balls is another word for weiner?" she asked.

"Well, no," I answered. "Balls is another word for testicles, which is the part of the boy where the sperm comes from. Remember when I explained that to you?" I reminded her that they were in the scrotum and hung down behind the weiner and looked like balls, hence the name.

She nodded in affirmation. "Oh, yeah," she said.

"Do you want me to show you a picture in the book so you understand better?"

"Uh, no," she said while shaking her head pretty vigourously. "I don't want to see it."

Yeah, sweetie, none of us really want to see.