After a weekend of non-stop soccer games (nine of them, blogosphere!) I’m a bit tired this Monday morning. Riley, who played five of the nine games, is not.
As I prepare to make his breakfast, I ask him how much he’ll eat this morning. One egg, two eggs, egg-bacon-and-cheese sandwich?
“One and a half eggs, and bacon,” Riley answers.
“One and a half eggs, it is. ” I say.
“Seriously? They don’t really have half eggs, do they?” My son has a special knack for being very bright, and yet obtuse, at the same time. It’s kind of charming.
“Yes, Riley,” I say, “Sometimes when the chickens leave work early, they don’t have time for a full egg, and they abruptly stop. They go half.”
He shakes his head at me as he starts to put on the clothes he’s brought downstairs. “I don’t think I like your attitude. But you know what would be perfect? Turkey eggs. They’d be the right size. Why don’t we eat turkey eggs?”
“Maybe turkeys would be harder to farm for their eggs–“
“That’s discrimination! Turkeys get it on, too!” And he finishes with a low, Barry White-style, ” Yeahh, baby!”
“Dude, I don’t think I can deal with turkeys getting it on at seven in the morning.”
“Now Mom,” Riley says, “Turkey sex isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”
I look over my shoulder to see him looking at me with a mock- serious, quasi- parental look. It’s makes for a comical blend with his skinny little farmer-tanned, boxer clad body.
In a soothing voice, Riley continues, “When a man turkey and a woman turkey want to be very close—“
“Mom, it might embarrass you now, but turkey sex is a normal, healthy part of an adult turkey’s life,” Riley explains. “So, as I was saying, when two turkeys want to be very close, and they are in a committed relationship—“
“Riley, ” I laugh, “Stop it!”
“A committed relationship, Mom!” And then he breaks into a speech I’ve given many times, “and if the turkeys aren’t sure that this is a committed relationship, they should wait. If turkey sex is a good idea this week, it will still be a good idea next week, too. So just wait. There will always be more turkey sex available—“
“Breakfast is ready!” I announce. “You’re a turkey,” I tell him as he sits down.
“A COMMITTED relationship, Mom.”
Thank you, Riley.