Balls

I'm joining in with the Big Brass Alliance, started by Shakespeare's Sister, which is going to be taking some action with the other organizations supporting After Downing Street.

I haven't figured out how to add the logo, a pair of Big Brass balls, to my blog.

But I am reminded of an incident from my childhood.

When my brother was born, his testicles didn't descend, which is a fairly common occurance. Because it can affect fertility, if they don't descend on their own by the time the little boy is about 2 or so, they will do surgery to put the testicles where they belong.

I was sitting with my mother in the doctor's office. Dr. Dalton was a serious man, a little intimidating for a pediatrician, but he was the kind of doctor that got a child's attention and respect. He was explaining the situation to my mother (I was probably about 9 or 10 years old) - Little Bro's testicles were nice and toasty inside his body, so they needed to come out if he was ever going to give my mother any grandchildren. He explained the surgery and the care my brother would require while recovering.

At the end of this discussion, my mother asked "What are testicles?"

I was mortified.

Dr. Dalton held out one of his large hands, cupped slightly, and said in his dignified and serious voice, "you know, BALLS".