The tiny brown beaver

A funny scenario at the park last Sunday prompted the memory of a comical family story from my childhood. I will post the park story soon but first let me share the memory it dished up.

When we were kids, our nightly family dinner was a great gathering fest. My older brother, Tumbleweed, and I frequently had our two BFFs over. The four of us would typically join my Mom and Stepdad (SD) for dinner.

One night Tumbleweed determined nothing could possibly pair better with the family dinner than an inappropriate joke. He was a freshman in high school so inappropriate jokes were likely all he knew. For nostalgia purposes, and for good story-telling, let me share the joke now.

What is the bellybutton for?
A place to put your gum on the way down.

My mom, sweet as a daisy I presumed, didn't quite get the joke. She asked for clarification. Down where? While the quartet of youngsters howled like monkeys, after some delay my SD provided a euphemism. His choice was "beaver". My mom, tilted her head and said, "I used to have a beaver once."



Now, I was only a kid at the time but I promise you I knew a historical moment when it presented itself. So I buckled in, and was certain it would be a story I would be telling for decades to come.

Our mom, went on to explain that her beautiful beaver was a pet. And how it was tiny and brown. And her brother unfortunately set it loose in the woods. Can you image telling a group of silly juveniles about your tiny brown beaver that got set loose in the woods? Immaturity knows no boundaries.

As we choked on laughter and meatloaf, my mom was surprised and dismayed by our reaction to her missing pet. Oh boy.

As we continued to carry on, she finally demanded to know what was so funny. So SD told her that he didn't really mean beaver as in the primarily nocturnal, semi-aquatic member of the rodent family. He explained the joke, and why we were cackling like jackals.

And once she realized, out of the kitchen she went as fast as her legs could carry her.

Ahhhh...Momcatt. Thanks for such a great memory.

And my mom is not Mrs. Ingalls. In fact, she is cool as hell so the fact she didn't get the joke, or know a very 80's slang term for the nether region, well, it was surprising.

So watch your words today, and if you find a loose beaver, you can airmail it back to my parents house. I am sure my Mom misses it.