Luscious Legs

Sometimes it’s more fun to leave the misunderstanding in place, rather than try to fix it. This was one of those times. Well, once I got over the embarrassment.

My youngest son always had the most chunky thighs I’ve ever seen on a baby. My mother-in-law said he didn’t have legs, he had hams. She was right!

One beautiful fall day, when he was about six months old, I was playing with him on the living room floor. I remember it was a nice cool day with low humidity because my front door was open, with just a screen door between us and whatever, or whoever was outside.

Just as I said to my baby boy in a high-pitched sing-song voice (with a very Southern accent), “You’ve got such luscious legs!” I looked up and saw our slightly overweight, red-headed mailman on our porch. He was enjoying the nice day walking around in his mailman shorts. Except he was not walking when I looked at him because he was too stunned to move. He just stood there part-way up my steps with my mail in his hand as his face ┬áturned redder and redder. Eventually, his face was redder than his hair. He looked like he didn’t know whether to drop the mail and run, or dutifully risk his marriage or something, and put the mail in my box. Of course he didn’t look inside the house, so he had no idea I wasn’t talking to him.

Well, that was the embarrassing part. The fun part came anytime I was out and saw him on the route. He knew my car. I knew he knew my car because he went from startled to tense when our paths crossed. To this day, I bet that man thinks I had the hots for his legs. It still makes me laugh.

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