No Wonder I'm Going Grey

This morning as we were watching Kyra's softball game, Diane turned to me, grabbed my arm and gasped, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you..."

Diane just returned from a three-day conference in Scottsdale where she was honored as one of her company's top managers. Her company wines and dines them, books inspirational speakers, and pulls out all the stops to express their appreciation. Diane is amazing at what she does, and it's exciting for me to see her honored in this way. As she was getting her things together and preparing to leave for the conference, Kailey came into our bedroom to present a rather unusual request.

"Mommy, when you go on your trip, can you bring me back something?"

A small grin spread across Diane's face. "Don't I usually bring you and Kyra back something when I go on a trip?"

"Yes, but I was wondering if you could bring me back something different. Like something for big girls."

"Like what?" Diane wondered aloud.

"Like a poster...with a boy on it."

My jaw dropped as Diane recounted their conversation. A POSTER WITH A BOY ON IT? SHE'S EIGHT YEARS OLD? I immediately envisioned a shirtless Enrique Iglesias, his body glistening with sweat, eyeing my daughter from his perch on her wall. OK, that was probably a little too much detail, but as an overprotective dad, that's where...oh, never mind. There's no good way to explain it. Diane seemed to think it was funny. I was looking for someone to kill. Over my dead body will she EV-ER own a poster with a boy on it. What is she going to ask for next, the annual Firefighters Calendar?

Needless to say, Kailey did NOT get a poster with a boy on it. What she got instead was all of her TV viewing privileges revoked because that's the only thing I can think of that might put that cockamamie, NO, er, um, CRAZY request in her head. I need a drink. Anything to get the image of sweaty Enrique out of my head.