When we had our son I knew the number of balls in my house would double, but I was way off the mark because adding a son more than ba-drupled the number of balls being flung about my home (and not just the kind they scratch and play with).
I had no idea that one extra little boy would mean having a truck load of balls dumped into what had previously been a barbie doll and dress-up zone. Now everywhere I step, everywhere I look, I see balls: footballs, baseballs, basketballs, bouncy balls, kick balls, soccer balls, little plastic balls, big squishy balls, and every color of ball.
I'm forever picking up balls and dodging balls and sitting on balls. I'm sick of balls rolling all over the place!
And is it really such a surprise that after a long day of chasing balls that I don't want to play with any balls of any kind? Really? By the time I'm in bed the last thing I want to see are a couple of balls, and I don't care what color they are, or if they're big and squishy, I just want all balls out of my face.
The next ball that hits me in the eye is going in the trash and I don't care if it's attached to someone.