Here's a bit about Owen and Eli from the previous weekend. Last Sunday was Owens' final hockey game for the year. At 6 years old and peanut sized, his stats were non existent but he had a ball. Always smiling when he came off the ice. After the game, we are discussing with Owens' mom and dad about the evening plans, which was going to the Chicago Wolves AHL hockey game. So, you have four adults yakking and two kids being bored. Eli decides he's going to head butt us. He does everyone but me gently. For me, he rolled back that 16 pound bowling ball between his shoulders and got me square in the nuts.
I dropped like a sack of potatoes. His folks, and grandma, are "What the hell, Eli?", while I'm struggling to breathe. His dad marched him to the truck pretty quick.
Move ahead several hours. We are all gathered outside the venue for the Wolves game. Eli's other grandparents are also there along with his aunt, uncle, and cousins. Eli is standing next to me, oblivious. I delivered a well placed pop to his nether region and dropped him.
Other grandparents and his lawyer aunt are getting bent but Eli's dad tells them that Eli just experienced payback for dropping me this morning. I picked him up and asked if he was done with the BS now. He agreed.
After all this, Owen shouted at the top of his lungs, in a crowd, "You can punch me in the nuts all you want, grandpa. I'm still wearing my cup." The dads, grandpas, and uncles are losing it. Grandmas and aunt's are embarrassed. Owens' mom is, "What? Your game was 8 hours ago and you're still wearing that thing? What the hell, Owen?"