The heroism and narcissism of the male ego

When Baroy finally got home on Sunday, exhausted and dispirited, there was this sign on the window awaiting him, and two kids who were jumping up and down at the sight of his really cool medal, and a comment and a post from Rich that brought a smile to his face, and he got over the worst of the disappointment remarkably quickly.

Later, he was sitting with Em and me and said, "You know what really kept me going? It was the thought that I didn't want to have to tell my kids," [and here he looked at Em] "I didn't want you guys to ever say to someone, 'Yeah, my dad ran the LA Marathon, but he didn't finish it.'"

You can look at that two ways: You can think, "My husband got through the last 14 miles of a marathon because he wanted to teach his kids how not to be a quitter. How wonderful is that?" Or, you can think, "My husband got through the last 14 miles of a marathon based entirely on not wanting to take an ego hit. How ridiculous is that?"

I think both.

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My father's girlfriend called me today to talk about some semi-issues with my dad's health, as she does on occasion. At the end of the conversation, she shared with me this line, from the mouth of her 4-year-old grandson, who apparently experienced his first noticeable, um, erection this morning, and went running to his mom, yelling, "Mommy, Mommy! My penis grew bigger! Does that mean I told a lie?"

I guffawed. And I don't often guffaw. It's just not ladylike.

But that just begs for a punch line, doesn't it? Leave it in the comments, and whoever posts the best one will get...I dunno. Something. Kudos, probably. Or maybe cookies.