Kinley comes walking into my room a few days ago, all ready to go out.  Her hair is curled, she has cute skinny jeans on and boots to finish off the look.  Her smile sparkles, along with her personality.  I should be thinking how fast she has grown up, and how proud I am of her, but all I can do is stare at her shirt.

I glance down at her shirt and grin.  

Jon pipes in, “I like your shirt!”

“Thanks Dad, I like it more in black than white.”

Jon was silent…..

Kinley turns to me,

“What mom? What are you thinking?”  


I look over at Jon and he is already jiggling up and down, chuckles underground, threatening to release uncontrollably.  I knew he was  wondering if I would attempt the inevitable, awkwardly kind of conversation. 

 “What dad?”  He looks at her and looks back at me, obviously standing this one out.  

“Um, let’s just say that your shirt doesn’t mean what you think it means.” I said slowly.

“Like the animal right?”  She looked between Jon and I with a confused look on her face.

“Kind of, not really.” I eased into it with grace.

“Well, I know dad bought it from a town called Beaver, that is what it means.”

“Well, yes, but some people might not take it that way.”

“Why?” Kinley said with big eyes.

I continued to explain alternate meanings of her shirt.  She sat and listened with a look of horror on her face.  “MOM, I HAVE WORN THIS TO THE GYM.  I HAVE WORN IT TO SCHOOL, AND EVEN IN MY GYM CLASS!’

By this point Jon was rolling on the ground in laughter.  I was tearing up because I was giggling so hard, at her expense of course.  


And that was all there was to it.  Jon and I decided that we would make each of our daughters wear the “I love Beaver” shirt for the first few months of high school.  Forget the shot guns dad has loaded and ready for a kill, or the long intimidating talks he has prepared since their birth. 

 We have a whole new plan.