Tell Me Where It Hurts

One of my favorite pastimes is rough-housing with my kids. The other day I was lying on the couch when my son decided I needed a little extra weight on me. My daughter noticed the burgeoning wrestling session, yelled "dog pile on Dad!" and leapt on top of her brother. She sailed in a graceful arc over the foot of the couch and landed squarely on top of her brother, who was lying face down on my back at the time.

Now, you would expect someone who's just been sandwiched thusly to make some comment regarding the situation: "ouch," "I can't breathe," "ok I'll pay you the money I owe you," or "get off, I'm not having sex with you" are a few that I've heard-slash-said in my past.

But not my son. He once again demonstrated his knowledge of humor and anatomy by yelling: "AAaahhhh my anus!"