Marbles

There's this comedian named Milt Abel.  He has this bit about getting older and how you never hear little kids complain about aches and pains like grown-ups do.
You never hear kids say things like, "I pulled a muscle playing tag yesterday, and I am SO sore today."
Or, when he bends over to pick up his marbles, a kid never groans as he straightens up.

The Husband and I find this particular bit hilarious.
We refer to it often, usually after one of us groans, and often simply by saying, "Marbles."

Over the weekend, The Husband and I bought flooring for the basement.
Eighteen boxes of squares. 
One box isn't heavy, but 18 boxes are.
We used one of those industrial carts to push them out to the van.
And one by one, we loaded them into the back hatch.

Once finished, The Husband slammed the hatch shut and walked toward the driver's door while I returned the cart.
"Holy cow!" he exclaimed.  "Look how much the back end of the van sags!"
"Holy cow!" I agreed.  "You know what the van is saying right now?"
He gave me a questioning look.
I stooped over and massaged my back.  "Marbles."