Kleptomania and The Love of Basketball

A snippet of conversation from before bed last night:

(The scene is a master bedroom with a king-sized bed and a handsome devil of a husband laying propped against some pillows and reading Wikipedia on his Ipod.  His wife enters the room, slightly vexed, and says,)

ME - Umm, I need to talk to you about something that could be a problem.

DH -  Okay.

ME - Well, I went to get my progesterone checked today and I took DS2 with me and there was a little stress ball by where they draw blood that looked like a basketball. I assume that people who don't bring their veins to their blood draw squeeze on the ball and...you get my point.....so, DS2 takes the ball and starts playing with it and the nurse does her thing with poking a hole in my arm and then she tapes me up and says to DS2, 'I need that back if you don't mind.' They then start throwing the little basketball back and forth and I say, 'DS2, we need to go pick up DS1. Put the ball back on the table and let's head out.' The nurse and I talk a little about my progesterone and whatnot and then we leave.

DH - What is the point of this moronic story?

ME - I'm trying to tell you!!  She asked for the ball back and I thought he put it back on the table, but I just looked in my purse for chap stick and look what I found!! (pulls out little basketball from behind back) Our son stole the basketball from the fertility clinic. HE STOLE THE BALL!!!! OUR SON STEALS!!!!!

DH - He didn't steal that ball. I took it on Saturday when we went in for our embryo transfer. 

ME - What would possess you take the basketball?

DH - Because I thought DS2 would like it.

(Scene ends)

Albeit a completely pointless tale, I just had to share.  :D :D :D :D :D