Birthday Dinner with the 'Rents

My mother and I's birthdays are only 2 days apart. This year we decided to get together for a Birthday Dinner at a favorite Italian Restaurant to celebrate. It was good to see my father up and about after a recent surgical procedure that involved having accumulated fluid drained from his 'nether regions'* and, naturally, some of the conversation involved his chatting up his time before, during and after the crack Medical Staff 'tapped his Maple.'**

By proxy, my mother picked up some new terms of which had never before occupied places in her rather limited vernacular; an education that she promptly exploited by reciting rather excitedly:

Mother: You know...his thingies down there? They're called TESTICLESSCROTUMGONADS!
Me: Erm.

As if the three seperate words were, in fact, one long word.

In hindsight (snort) I prefer my father's quick-and-to-the-point 'balls' but applaud the furthering of my mother's knowledge base just into her 63rd year...even though said 'learning' meant my dad had to go under the knife.

Old Dog...New Tricks.

Happy Birthday, indeed.***

T


*South of the Jonathan Thomas Peninsula and North of The Black Hole of Calcutta...for our geography buffs out there.

**Which, of course, added a certain 'flavor' to our respective meals.

***Since TESTICLESSCROTUMGONADS are an important part of the procreation act, eh?