Rabbit Duck Turtle

I used to sew most of my children’s clothes.

Especially their blue jeans.

Let’s face it. When one’s son wears a 28 waist and a 38 inseam, you learn how.

Out of desperation.

Now any of you blue jean aficionados know that the back pockets are the face of the garment.

Pun intended.

It is on the back pockets that one can really show one’s artistic merit.

Okay, yes, my merit lacked oomph. But I tried.

I sewed designs.

Pictures.

Initials.

And it is this last that brings me—finally—to the point of my story . . .

Our second son, Erik, was the boy who needed the ‘stretched out’ jeans. His initials were, understandably, E.T.

You probably remember the cute, classic movie of yesteryear called, simply, “ET”. And you probably also know of grade school children’s proclivity for teasing.

Somehow, I simply couldn’t expose my son (pun also intended) to that by putting ET on the back his jeans. So I went with option number 2. His full initials. ‘EBT’.

It worked. Comfortable jeans he liked.

And no teasing.

An important point.

Now the next brother, Robin, upon glimpsing the . . . ummm . . . work of art that was Erik’s jeans, loudly requested the same.

Thus the initials, ‘RDT’ appeared on his much smaller pair.

Cute.

Unfortunately, the teasing I had avoided with my patented technique on the first pair of jeans found its way to this second pair. Via the boy’s father.

Sigh.

Dad: “What’s that on your pockets? RDT? What does that stand for?”

Son: “Robin Duff Tolley!”

Dad: “What?”

Son (a little louder): “Robin Duff Tolley!”

Dad: “No. I think it stands for Rabbit Duck Turtle.”

Son: “Robin Duff Tolley!”

Dad: “Rabbit Duck Turtle!”

Repeat ad nauseam.

Moving ahead 30 years . . .

I was making my now-thirty-seven-year-old son’s Christmas stocking. He’d had another. A classic. But somewhere between moving to the coast and LIFE, it had been lost and I needed to fill the hole it left in my Christmas display.

Me: “What should I put on your stocking, Son?”

Him: “How about Rabbit Duck Turtle?”

Sometimes it just takes a while . . .