Caveat Lector: HOT-DOGS

In other parts of the country, particularly out West, beef barbecue is the norm. Here in North Carolina, pork BBQ is king.

So I was surprised when, at a recent meeting in Houston, I saw the back of a T-shirt that read: “Best Butts in Town.” On the front was an ad for a BBQ joint.

A few days later, as the kids were setting table for dinner, I told my wife about that T-shirt, saying: “You know it’s got to be referring to pork butts … I mean they don’t use cow butts in anything except, maybe, hot-dogs.”

Basil, age 7, innocently said: “Uh, Dad. I thought they used another private part for hot-dogs.”

Quick glance at the wife, simultaneous jaw dropping & eye-widening! “Noooooooooo, son. Oh, no, no, no.”

We laughed, stammered some sort of hot-dog ingredient mantra, kept looking at each other and trying not to snort.

Innocently, during dinner, Basil said: “Well, I’ve got to tell some people.” It turns out he’d told a few of his buddies how [he thought] hot-dogs were made.

It was one of those dinners where you couldn’t help but smile. Parents. Children. Innocence. Glory to God.

Then, just before we were all done with the meal, a rather serious looking Basil was still searching for answers: “Mom. Dad? Well … why do they call them weenies?”

(Forgive me.)