A few months ago, my 8-year-old son approached my wife and me. He was sheepish, almost embarrassed, but he said he had something to tell us.

Expecting the worst, we sat down and listened as he stammered, “Mom, dad, I’m … I’m … ”

Yes, go on.

“I’m a f … I’m a fa … ”

It’s OK. Whatever it is, we’ll understand and love you no matter what. Really.

“I’m a … fan. Of the Longhorns. I’m a Texas Longhorns fan!”

My wife shrieked and clutched her chest. I tried to look understanding. I’m sure we both retreated to our own personal parental hell, wondering just how we had let our baby go astray. (But for vastly different reasons. A diehard Jayhawk fan, my wife hoped he’d bleed Crimson and Blue; I hoped he’d carry on his dear old dad’s remarkable ambivalence for sports organizations).

But we assured him we’d love him even if he cheered for the other team, and with only a few exceptions — like my wife’s declaration, “As long as you live under my roof, YOU WILL NOT CHEER FOR THE LONGHORNS ANY TIME THEY PLAY AGAINST THE JAYHAWKS!” — we’ve been as supportive as possible.

OK, I’ll come clean. There never really was a big coming-out-of-the-closet moment, but the kid does love his ‘Horns.

With that as background, Monday, when UT took on the Jayhawks in a Big Monday basketball game, we gathered ’round the big screen — at least until bedtime (for the wife, that is) — and I couldn’t help but notice how many of the UT faithful were wearing foam Bevo horns. And I thought maybe my Bevo-loving boy might like a pair.

At the suggestion of a few co-workers, I texted Journal-World basketball beat writer Gary Bedore — I considered asking sports editor Tom Keegan, but he’s kind of curmudgeonly, not much of a people person and he just hates kids — and asked if he’d try to snare a pair for my kid.

Despite the fact it was the second half of a huge game in a raucous arena, Gary responded in about 14 seconds with, “well try.”

Sure enough, the next day he dropped off not one but two pair of foamhorns on my desk, further cementing his status as a Fine Man (and genius with food additives).

I just had to get them home.

Foamhorns aren’t particularly big or bulky or heavy. They’re just kind of … awkward to carry on a bike.

I thought about looping one over each arm, creating burnt end, er, burnt orange wings, but I feared all the flapping in the breeze at my sure-to-be-frantic pace might tear the delicate foam.

I also considered donning the foamhorns over my helmet. It was cold, and I figured the foam might offer some insulative properties. Plus, I laughed at the thought of the figure I’d cut as I rode about town with two pair of Bevo horns flapping in the breeze.

But the horns were too small to fit around my helmeted noggin, and I figured I didn’t need to give any angst-ridden motorists any additional reasons to want to run me off the road.

The whole thing did, however, get me thinking about other ways to decorate my helmet. Maybe a discreet pair of devil horns, say, or a warthog’s tusks? Stegosaur plates? Beanie propeller? Shark fin? Tried-but-true arrow-through-the-helmet gag?

The possibilities are limitless, but Bevo bits, I learned, aren’t an option.

Just don’t tell it to my son.