Explaining the Value of Dead Armadillos

As we were driving, my woman saw an armadillo along side the road.

"Was it dead?" asked our eight-year-old.

"No, still alive" answered his mother.

"It's not as easy as you think to kill an armadillo," I added, remembering the time I killed an armadillo - truly a difficult and gruesome experience. It reminds me now of the flogging scene in The Proposition.
Good movie, by the way.

"Unless you crush it with a truck!" exclaimed my young son.

"Well, yeah... there's that."

" Do you remember the time you told me about running over the armadillo with a truck and then you threw up all over the inside?" he asked with glee.

I told him that story because he had been embarrassed about puking on the playground at school in front of everybody. Now it was coming back to haunt me.

"Oh yeah. I remember... It was the moment I knew I was truly accepted by the guys I worked with on the river. They were finally impressed." Suddenly I shifted gears on him; "When you are old enough to have a job and you find yourself working with mainly guys, the best way to break in with them that I've ever found is to vomit right in front of them. Be sure to do it where it doesn't offend anybody or need to be cleaned up though. They will laugh in surprise and feel like you have shared something special with them."

I looked at his mother who was watching the road ahead with the look of an amused sigh on her face.

"You know it's true. You've been around guys..." I said.

She smiled enough of an acknowledgment that we could move on & seek out other, less-disgusting, truths in the course of conversation.
It was a good smile.