No, it's not what it sounds like - they do get bathed regularly, testicular areas included, and they're not old enough to have developed that, erm, special kind of odor anyway. When Colin and Cameron refer to their "stinky stinky balls," they're referring to the kind of rubber racquetballs that come in three-packs like this:
And these balls are indeed pretty foul. It's like somebody took all the disgusting burnt-rubber smell of a tire shop, made it super-concentrated, and stuffed the stench into a little plastic cannister. Gross. But the kids love them for some reason, even wanting to sleep with them like most kids would sleep with, say, a teddy bear.
What can I say? My kids are weird. They certainly don't get that from me, right?
... RIGHT?!?
*cricket, cricket*
Anyway, yesterday at the store Curtis gave them five bucks each and told them they could pick whatever they wanted. Colin immediately headed down the Crayola aisle, so while he and Curtis did that, I headed on down to the shampoo aisle so I could browse the selection in relative peace. As I was weighing my options, I heard Colin in all his four-year-old loudness chanting - from practically across the store - "STINKY STINKY BALLS! STINKY STINKY BALLS! STINKY STINKY BALLS!" And customarily, his little brother was echoing him like a mockingbird.
Yeah. He'd decided that he was going to use his five dollars on a new package of racquetballs. But did the rest of the shoppers know that? Of course not. So I'm sure everybody thought that he and Cameron were these horribly rude kids shrieking about their malodorous sacks.
... Especially anyone who also happened to overhear Colin announce that the rubber plungers "smell like penis."


















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