Being a dad can be nuts sometimes...

I don't know what it is about kids and their affinity for drilling the old man in the berries, whether it be by accident or intentionally.

Being a father can be the most rewarding and most frustrating thing a guy can ever go through, often at the same time. Like the time your little one comes home with straight A's on his first grade report card and you whisk him up in the air in jubilation only to take a scissors kick in the 'nads at the height of celebration. Of course he's oblivious to your suffering because he's all excited that the lights in the soles of his new pair of Spiderman tennis shoes are going off and on like a Christmas tree.

Recently, I was walking around with the fam at a one of those chain department stores (I believe it was at the one that rhymes with ballcart) when my sweet little six-year old son got this look in his eyes as he was nearing me while the wife and daughter were off somewhere looking at some clothes. As he got even closer, I began to recognize that look...one I recalled from my youth that one of my tomfoolin' friends would get when they were about to unleash some flatulence in a public setting for which I would always seem to take the fall.

Totally unprepared for the beast that was about to be unleashed, I stood there smiling as my little guy lifted his hand and gave me a quick little backhanded whack in my nether regions, which connected with the kind of force one gets when twisting up a wet towel and snapping bare skin. Now that I think about it, I'm more than a little impressed with the young 'uns accuracy, but that was the furthest thing from my mind at that moment.

Immediately I hoped maybe the nerve endings down there were worn out from traipsing around the store for more than an hour or perhaps early indicators were wrong and he hadn't hit his target. However, a sudden rush of warmth followed by blistering heat searing up my body confirmed it was a direct hit.

My first thought was to find that little sucker and perform a ball-ectomy on the spot, but my sudden loss of muscle control forced me to do the only thing I could do...double over in pain while trying to shield my face behind a rack of summer garb from the Jaclyn Smith collection.

In between tinges of pain, I tried to curse my little guy out, but I'm sure it didn't make any sense to him or anyone else within earshot including my other family members. At one time I swear I heard my nine-year old daughter say something to the affect of "Mom! Dad's daylight drinking again! 'Cause I can't understand a word he's saying!" but I never got any confirmation nor the subsequent DARE-influenced lecture that usually comes with said episodes. Later on it dawned on me that God (or your creator of choice) probably set up that wave of pain as a kind of cooling down period so you don't do something rash like decapitate the offender when you take one in the nads.

Somewhere in my post-testicular stress, I recalled hearing a news report about the average man (and I'm the poster child for the average man) getting hit about 250 times in the testiclular region during their lifetime. I know, I know, to do that kind of research a person has to be half nuts. However, I'm sure it's balls of fun! (Okay, enough with the word play.)

Soon I came to my senses and realized the news report was part of a hallucination and that recollection was actually a figure I just pulled out of the sky because, as any man knows, there are so many variables going into an actual nut crack count. I'm also sure other fathers out there we know that number is probably much higher.

If ever there was an excuse to have kids at an early age, I'm telling you guys, do it while you still have reflexes. The older you get the more susceptible you are to taking one in the ol' groin. If you wait until later in life to start that family, let me warn you sometimes it feels like you're a hockey goalie on muscle relaxers ... and without the mask, pads, stick and requisite nut cup.

Now I have some doubts on this whole theory of intelligent design, but the location of the berries out in the open like they are, in my book is one thorn in the side on the theory of evolution. If we've evolved like many scientists claim, then how come the nuts are still on the outside in an easily accessible target area. Couldn't there be a safer place...somewhere up around the spleen?

I think our military is actually missing out on a wonderful opportunity. Instead of waterboarding and other forms of torture, stick these prisoners of war into a room full of blindfolded kids armed with whiffle ball bats and some pinatas. I guarantee in no time we'd know not only where this Bin Laden guy was, but probably have a dozen or so good clips for America's Funniest Home videos.