She couldn't wait to tell me. "Mommy, today we learned that boys are different from girls! My teacher told us that boys have a thing the girls don't." "Well, yes they do..." I said cautiously, but then couldn't think of how to continue. "That's how girls know that boys are boys. They see that thing that hangs down and they know that he's 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 started to sweat. "Um, well, uh..." I was still searching for a new topic when she asked, "Why do the girls like the boys to have those things?" Now 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. "It's 'cause it moves when they walk and then the girls see that and then they know they're boys and then 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, but on the whole I had to admit she had a pretty good grasp on it. As soon as we pulled into the garage, she fished something from her school bag. "I drew a picture," she said. "Do you want to see?" I wasn't sure that I did, but I looked anyway. I laughed so hard at her drawing, I started to cry and had to sit down. There, all puffed up, so to speak, and looking mighty attractive to the ladies, was a crayon drawing of a 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 stood tall and proud. She was a little offended that I laughed so hard at it, but when I told her I loved it -- and I did -- she got over her pique. And that was the end of that, at least for her. But not for me. Every year at this time, I remember that conversation and to be honest, I haven't looked at a turkey, or a man, the same way since!