A Beaver Tale

Last week, I posted a bit of a treasure from my family's comic arsenal about my Mom and her little brown beaver. This memory was prompted by another situation that occurred last weekend. For the fun of talking about it again, here we go.

Last Sunday, on another swampy GA day, I put little man in the Bugaboo and went off to the park for a run. First, its hhhhhhot. Second, its hhhhhhhot. And third, he is only two but it is not like I am pushing a Teddy Graham on a paper clip. It's a work out.

So, we get to this bridge he likes and a mandatory stop is par for the course so he can look at the river. I am pouring sweat and pleased for even a mere two minute hiatus from the run. He asks, in his two year old jubilee, if I too can see it. I say, yes I can see the river. I look up to see another runner very close to us so I shimmy over to the side of the sidewalk lest I be an obstacle in her path. She said hello and asks "Did you say you saw my beaver?"


Me, engulfed in a cloud of bafflement. Because I only tilted my head to the side and probably narrowed my gaze at her, she asked again, "Did you say you saw my beaver?"

No. Because of the many things I would never say, right up there with "I should have married Vanilla Ice" would be me, turning to a full-scale stranger and saying, "Ma'am, I think I saw your beaver."

Oh, I get it, she heard yes I see the river and misunderstood. Care not. If you pause for a tiny moment of reflection, you wouldn't ask me if I said I saw your beaver even if you thought you heard it. And yes, I know not everyone hears this word and gets the slang correlation. My Mom is case in point. Even then, it is still an odd question.

She proceeds to point out a house across the field below, which is her abode. And apparently beavers do reside in or around the river. She has taken a liking to one. Hence the pet phrase.

I have literally crossed that bridge no less than 500 times and I have never once seen a beaver.
So all I can say in response to her question, is ummmmmmmmmmmm no.

And then she tells me, "I hope you see one. Beavers are wonderful."

Are they? Wonderful? Oh, you're right. That's what every boy in junior high (and beyond) told me.

Tiny albeit signficant suggestion:

While it may be big laughs in my family to tell and re-tell a joke about a beaver, its not a word I use frequently. And outside of my mom and her misbegotten humor, when I hear it from other people, I don't laugh and snort like a 5th grader all over again.

If you are a grown woman, you should know that it is an odd phrase to say to a stranger, at almost any time unless we are the Aquarium or the Zoo. Even if I was standing in the river, I doubt I would make the correlation. From a complete stranger. Jogging by with her iPod. Chatting away about her beaver. And how wonderful it is.

And finally, and I promise this is the best advice, while its super duper you have made a little friend down at the tributary, stop calling it your beaver. Stat.

And what did I do when I got home? Immediately telephoned my Mom and told her. How hard did we laugh? Very.

Oh, beaver humor strikes again.