Things a Mother Doesn't Like to Talk About

Baseball season just started here in Wisconsin, and we are quite unprepared. The weather is still cold, and Tim has none of the essentials for the sport. It seems he has outgrown his jock and cup from last year.

He comes downstairs after searching his room for the equipment.

"Mom, the boys are getting bigger," he says with a grin.

I had no idea what he was talking about. It took me a minute to figure out the grin on his face. When it finally hit me, his face flushed a nice shade of pink.

"What makes you say that?" I asked him, pretending like it was nothing.

"My cup doesn't fit. It's too small. They, um, fall out the sides and get all mashed up in there," he explained. He proceeded to run around the dining room table, testing out the support of his cup.

"Mom! It turns sideways!" He stops and adjusts himself. "This will never work!"

"Well, make do with it tonight for practice and then you and your dad can go shopping tomorrow for a new one. Now you know how us women feel when we get a bra that doesn't fit right," I say.

"Mom!"