Evolution of an Inside Joke

There's clearly no science behind what we find funny, and similarly, there is no logic behind which inside jokes become so ingrained in our lexicon that we can't imagine what life was life before those phrases passed through our lips.  But our most recent inside joke was born of a series of incorrect facts and my own poor judgment. 

After our fishing/iPhone in the water debacle, we decided to make a return trip with my sister and nephews.  As I could have predicted, however, nothing went right.  Sure, my electronic devices stayed dry thanks to me leaving them locked in the van, but when it came to the fishing, there was no success.  The fish weren't biting, the bugs were biting and both of my boys repeatedly dropped their pants within sight of other families attempting to fish.

We quickly gave up, piled into the van like a carload of clowns (in more ways than one) and headed for home, stopping briefly for an ice cream treat.  As we drove down the highway, it happened.  The first step in what would become our new catch phrase.

"Did you know that they can hook people up to a machine to measure pain?  Well they did, and they found out that when a woman has a baby, it's the same as when a man gets kicked in the crotch," my nephews Ethan and Keaton offered.

I don't know much, but two things are clear.  One, on behalf of all mothers everywhere, there is NO way that one swift kick in the crotch is equivalent to birthing a watermelon through a hole better suited for a kiwi.  Two, using the word "crotch" in front of any, but specifically my four year-old is bound to incite drama.

"What is a crotch?"

Cue the collective "ugh".

"Your crotch is your private area between your legs."

"And getting kicked in the crotch means you're having a baby?!"

"No, thankfully.  Keaton said it feels like having a baby, but that can't be right.  Maybe twelve or fifteen kicks in the crotch stretched out over several hours feels like having a baby."

And then Cael, following along surprisingly accurately given the mature subject matter, shouted with gusto, "TWENTY-FIVE IN THE CROTCH!"

Now I'm not exactly sure what those twenty-five in the crotch were referencing, but there are several possibilities.  How painful the next week would be as he slipped "crotch" into conversation with everyone he met?  The number of times he'd assault Graham in an effort to establish dominance over the Cozy Coupe?  Personally, I think he just felt empathy for me when he considered what it must have felt to deliver his oversized head.

I can't condemn the statement altogether, because it truly has wormed its way into our vocabulary.

I think it carries a certain authority as well, as if to tell the person with whom you're speaking that you mean business.  You mean crotch-kickin' business. 

So the next time someone is on your last nerve, or tries to drive your motorhome without the proper license, or even writes on your children's faces in what turns out to be permanent marker, you know what to tell them.