Any dad that’s worn a baby carrier knows that there’s a sweet, bundle of joy in front of you that you’ve got to protect. And that is, of course, your testicles.
Look, you’re a good dad and you’ve got a handle on that fatherhood thing. But getting kicked in the junk is not fun. That’s why the Kiccup exists – it’s a shield that hangs below your baby carrier and protects you from wild baby-kicks.
Every warrior needs armor, and gentlemen, if you’re not protecting your meatballs, then what in the world are we doing here? Amirite or amirite?
(picture by Alan Sailer sans caption) Cole Gamble at The Good Men Project put up a story about how having a son has opened his mind about all things penis. I thought I’d weigh in on the idea, as I had been ruminating on the same topic lately. Gamble talks about how to a baby, their junk is a magical toy that never gets boring. To the onlooking parent, you think “god, that’s got to hurt.” As my son prepares to turn two years old, I’ve come to realize that his whole life has more or less been all about his junk. His pickle, his onions…the whole little sack of veggies. And occasionally (read: daily), it’s about my junk too, since he spends a lot of our playtime crushing my salad bar.
This isn’t going to get much prettier, so if you’re not into nut jokes, your ride ends here. On the bright side, if you love crotch humor – continue!