lilyjohn Posted November 29, 2007 Share Posted November 29, 2007 > >For most people, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what we've been given > >and savor the scents of crisp autumn days and pumpkin pie. For me, it's a > >little more complicated..... > >* > >One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up > >after school. She bobbed out to the car and crawled into the back seat. > >* > >'What did you do today?' I asked. She couldn't wait to tell me. > >* > >'We learned that boys are different from girls,' she chirped. > >* > >Looking into the rearview mirror, I could just see the top of her head. > >* > >'My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't,' she added. > > > > > > > >'Well, yes they do..' I said cautiously. > >* > >I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we were quiet for a moment. > >Then she piped up again. 'That's how girls know that boys are boys,' she > >said. 'They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he is a boy.' > >* > >I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already > >felt like an hour. > >* > >'Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?' My palms were > >beginning to sweat. 'Um...well...' > >* > >I was still searching for something new to say, to change the subject, when > >she asked, 'Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?' > >* > >Well I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that > >question at least once? > > > > > > > >'Oh, well...um...' I stammered. > >* > >She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. 'It's cause it moves when > >they walk and then the girls see that and that's when they know they are > >boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl > >and he puffs up, and then the girl knows he likes her, too. And then they > >get married. And then they get cooked.' > >* > >That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole I thought she had a > >pretty good grasp on things. > >* > >As soon as we got home and I pulled into the garage! , she hopped out of the > >car, fishing something out of her school bag. > >* > >'I drew a picture,' she said. 'Do you want to see?' > >* > >I wasn't sure I did, but I looked at it anyway. I had to sit down. There, > >all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a > >crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the > >thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so > >irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and > >proud. > >* > >She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing, and I > >laughed until I cried. But when I told her I loved it - and I did - she got > >over her pique. > >* > >That was the end of that, for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky. > > > > > > > >* > >Every year I remember that conversation. And to be honest, I haven't looked > >at a turkey, or a man, the same way since.. > >* > >Happy Thanksgiving! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Connect and share in new ways with Windows Live. Connect now!= ----- > >For most people, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on what we've been given > >and savor the scents of crisp autumn days and pumpkin pie. For me, it's a > >little more complicated..... > >* > >One November afternoon when my daughter was in kindergarten, I picked her up > >after school. She bobbed out to the car and crawled into the back seat. > >* > >'What did you do today?' I asked. She couldn't wait to tell me. > >* > >'We learned that boys are different from girls,' she chirped. > >* > >Looking into the rearview mirror, I could just see the top of her head. > >* > >'My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't,' she added. > > > > > > > >'Well, yes they do..' I said cautiously. > >* > >I couldn't think of anything else to say, so we were quiet for a moment. > >Then she piped up again. 'That's how girls know that boys are boys,' she > >said. 'They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he is a boy.' > >* > >I mentally calculated the distance home. Our five-minute commute already > >felt like an hour. > >* > >'Did you know that when the boys see a girl they puff up?' My palms were > >beginning to sweat. 'Um...well...' > >* > >I was still searching for something new to say, to change the subject, when > >she asked, 'Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?' > >* > >Well I didn't know what to say. I mean, what woman hasn't asked herself that > >question at least once? > > > > > > > >'Oh, well...um...' I stammered. > >* > >She didn't wait for my answer. She had her own. 'It's cause it moves when > >they walk and then the girls see that and that's when they know they are > >boys and that's when they like them. Then the boy sees the girl > >and he puffs up, and then the girl knows he likes her, too. And then they > >get married. And then they get cooked.' > >* > >That last part confused me a bit, but on the whole I thought she had a > >pretty good grasp on things. > >* > >As soon as we got home and I pulled into the garage! , she hopped out of the > >car, fishing something out of her school bag. > >* > >'I drew a picture,' she said. 'Do you want to see?' > >* > >I wasn't sure I did, but I looked at it anyway. I had to sit down. There, > >all puffed up so to speak, looking mighty attractive for the ladies, was a > >crayon drawing of a great big Tom Turkey. His snood, the > >thing that hangs down over his beak, the thing that female turkeys find so > >irresistible, was magnificent. His tail feathers were standing tall and > >proud. > >* > >She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at her drawing, and I > >laughed until I cried. But when I told her I loved it - and I did - she got > >over her pique. > >* > >That was the end of that, for her anyway. But I'm not so lucky. > > > > > > > >* > >Every year I remember that conversation. And to be honest, I haven't looked > >at a turkey, or a man, the same way since.. > >* > >Happy Thanksgiving! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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