I had been sitting Indian style on the floor across from him when this happened, and I was on my feet and out the door before it dawned on me that there should be punishment for this kind of behavior. I turned around, and as he and his penis tip were getting up off the floor, I, in my best law-enforcement impersonation, threw my leg up and kicked him right in his balls. I then did a follow-up with one of my signature back-of-the-head slaps. This has the effect of making you feel not only bad but stupid. It being my first one-on-one penis interaction, I was horrified. Like most unpleasant experiences regarding the penis, the first time is always the worst time.

I went barreling down the Rothsteins' steep driveway, gaining just enough momentum for me to make a sharp right and run straight up my own driveway and through my front door in less than sixty seconds. I stormed into the kitchen, where my parents were eating dinner. "Jason Rothstein just showed me his penis."

"What?" my father asked, looking up from his newspaper.

"His penis?" my mother asked, in a way that made me think this was the first she was hearing of this so-called object.

"Yeah, we were in the middle of playing Tip the Waiter, and then he pulled down his pants and changed the game to Tip of His Penis."

"What did you do?" my father asked me, still holding on to his paper.

"I kicked him in the balls and ran back here."

"Good response," he said, looking back down at whatever article he was reading. "Don't go over there again."

"Thanks for the hot tip, Dad. Shouldn't we press charges or something?"

"Press charges against a penis?"

"Yes."

"Don't you think that would be going a little overboard?"

"No, Dad. I'm eight. Are you familiar with the term 'molester'?"

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, Dad, but that's not the point. He's obviously in love with me. He's fifteen, and he's got a crush on an eight-year-old. You don't think there's anything sick about that?"