I'm in the family room nursing our newborn Lucy, Rob is playing with our English Bulldog, Bruno.
Me: You're playing too rough, Rob. One of you is going to get hurt and it better not be Bruno.
Husband: Playtime isn't for girls, playtime is for boys! Right, Bruno!?
::wrestle wrestle wrestle:: ::bark:: ::wrestle wrestle wrestle::
Me: Watch your balls! He's gonna jump on your balls, Rob! Be careful, this is too rough!
Husband: BABE! Relax, we're playing! Bruno, fetch!
Both go running down the hall to chase a ball.
Husband: AAHHHHH! BRUNO DAMMIT!! ::gag noise-cough-gag noise-cough::
Me: Let me guess, your balls?
Husband: ::long dramatic moan:: ::gag noise-cough-gag noise-cough::
About twenty minutes go by with more moans, gag noises and coughing. After he's done really milking it, he enters the family room.
Husband: What the ... you're not even going to check on me? This is serious!
Me: I told you that you guys were playing too rough and if I remember correctly, I told you to watch your balls.
Husband: He always runs in between my legs, but this time he charged into them. He never does that. I'm really hurt here, I think they're bruised. You don't even care.
Me: What do you want me to do, come to the aid of your balls? I figured you just needed to shake it off. Pass me Lucy's burp cloth?
Husband: Shake it off? What are you, a football coach?
Me: When I say "watch your balls" you should watch your balls. You always brush me off like I'm worrying too much, but women have incredible insight into these things and I saw your balls getting wrecked like I was looking into a crystal ball. You should listen to me next time. I don't want you playing rough like that with Lucy when she gets older.
Husband: Daddies play with their kids. You worry too much.
Me: Like when I worried about your balls?
Husband: That's not the same.
Me: ::blink blink::
Husband: I think I need to ice them.
Me: I don't want my frozen peas on your balls.
Husband: Ok, I'll use the bag of brussel sprouts that have been in there for 3 years.