My middle son loves balls. Soccer balls, basketballs, super balls, baseballs, sparkly rubber balls, any kind of ball.
He throws, kicks, dribbles, catches, tosses, and just holds them all the time, even in the house, even when it is a clear violation of our house rules. Yes we've had the proverbial Italian light fixture broken by a flying soccer ball when we first moved into our house years ago.
Did you know that an egg is a kind of ball? He enjoys my "funny" reaction to his tossing a raw egg about the kitchen, up almost touching the ceiling. Not funny when he has to clean up raw egg. Not to worry, the dog loves raw eggs. The dog cannot reach the ceiling, so it is very lucky for my son's longevity that the egg landed on the floor and not on the ceiling.
Yesterday a friend who plays baseball on my son's team was over. Unbeknownst to the adults sitting around talking, the friend and my son were enjoying a little game of waterballon toss IN HIS ROOM. Why play outside? There is no sense of danger. We all know that a water ballon toss ends only one way. Turns out the dog is not so big on cleaning up plain ol' water from the floor. I didn't tell my son this, but again I was happy that the ballon broke on the floor and not on the ceiling.
I did ask him which one of them dropped it, just because I was curious. The drop was a combined result of a bad throw from the loft and a failed diving catch from the . . . I didn't want to hear the rest.