A woman who has a 12-year-old daughter, (Jenny) lives next door to a woman who has a 12-year-old Son, (Billy). One day during the winter, Jenny's mum, goes to see Billy's mum, and says, "I

A woman who has a 12-year-old daughter, (Jenny) lives next door to a woman who has a 12-year-old Son, (Billy). One day during the winter, Jenny's mum, goes to see Billy's mum, and says, "I am absolutely mortified, Brenda! Mortified! I just saw Billy outside, and he was… well, he was without a shirt! In this weather! My Jenny saw him! She was practically traumatized! And frankly, so was I!"

Brenda, Billy's mum, a woman whose patience was as legendary as her ability to bake award-winning apple pies, raised an eyebrow. "Now, calm down, Carol. What exactly is the problem? Billy's a growing boy, and sometimes he just gets a little… spirited."

"Spirited?!" Carol shrieked, clutching her chest. "He was shoveling snow, Brenda! With his bare chest! It's practically arctic out there! My daughter is now convinced that all teenage boys are actually polar bears in disguise! And frankly, the image of him glistening in the frosty air has quite frankly ruined my appetite for the entire week!"

Brenda sighed. "Carol, I assure you, Billy is perfectly fine. He runs hot. Always has. And he's a big help with the driveway."

"But the shirtless part, Brenda!" Carol insisted, her voice rising to a dramatic crescendo. "It's just… indecent! What kind of example is that setting for our impressionable young girls? My Jenny is at a delicate age! She's asking questions I'm simply not prepared to answer about… about core body temperatures and youthful indiscretion!"

Brenda put a comforting hand on Carol's arm. "Carol, really, there's no need to make such a fuss. I'm sure it was just a moment of teenage exuberance. Boys do that sometimes."

Carol, however, was not to be placated. She leaned in conspiratorially, her eyes wide. "But Brenda, that's not even the worst of it! After he finished shoveling, he went inside, but then… then he came back out! And he was still shirtless! But this time… this time he was holding something! Something long and thin and… oh, Brenda, I almost fainted right there on my porch!"

Brenda's eyes widened slightly. "What was he holding, Carol? Was it… a snowball?"

Carol shuddered dramatically. "No, Brenda! Worse! Much, much worse! He was holding… a violin! And he started playing it! Shirtless! In the snow! My Jenny now thinks your son is either a delinquent, a polar bear, or a prodigy who needs a serious lesson in appropriate winter attire and musical modesty! And frankly, Brenda, I don't know which is more disturbing! My head is spinning!"

Brenda stared at Carol for a long moment, then slowly shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, Carol," she said, trying to suppress a chuckle, "at least you know he's cultured. Maybe next time, tell Jenny it's a new form of extreme outdoor classical performance art. And tell her to grab a coat if she wants to watch."