We have a problem in our house. A naked problem. Nakedness runs rampant, and we haven’t figured out a way to stop it. I am tired of repeating, “Put your pants on!” or “Don’t take off your clothes!” I can’t seem to make it through a day without saying something to that effect.
Nakedness has been a problem in this house since the Cruise Director learned how to take off her own clothes. It seems they learn how to take clothes off LONG before they learn to put clothes on, which means they are much more practiced, and therefore better at taking them off. I have photographs. Which I will not be posting, of course. But it is documented proof of the naked troubles of our home.
When the Cruise Director was three, and the Queen Bee was two, long before the Happy Tornado was even a tailwind, I took them to a neighbors house up the street to play, and they ended up swimming in the kiddie pool. Naked. But it was a sanctioned naked, since I had not brought swimsuits. When I mentioned it was time to go, I had yet to put a diaper back on the Queen Bee, and the Cruise Director jumped up, ran to the front of the house, hopped on her tricycle, and rode it naked seven houses down the street back home. I was just rounding the corner of the neighbors house in time to see her taking the corner onto our own driveway. And even from seven houses away, I could see her naked bum. Anyone who happened to look would see her naked bum sitting on that tricycle, because it had an orange FLAG waving to all, making sure they noticed her naked joyride.
The next spring, I was getting them both dressed in the morning, and a light rain was falling outside. I made the mistake of singing a song I know about dancing in the rain, and ZOOM they are both out the front door, and dancing naked in the front yard. The naked problem cannot be kept indoors.
The naked problem cannot be kept at home either. The Happy Tornado has added a whole new dimension to the naked problem in our home. She removes her clothes before she even heads to the bathroom to use it. It is now not just me, but all four of us continually calling out, “Put your pants on!” It does not help that she is sensitive to wet things. The slightest leak in her pants, or spilling water on them, and she is stripped down. We were once shopping at Home Depot, and it had been raining the day before, so there was a bit of wetness in the race-car seat of the shopping cart. When she had sat in it, HT was completely upset. While my back was turned to look at something, she had removed all her clothes, and was standing in the cart buck naked in the middle of the wide open vanity and toilet showroom. I was not lucky enough to be shopping in the tall, and more private aisles of, say, the nuts and bolts department.
I had mentioned to her preschool teacher that the Happy Tornado has this naked problem, and she remarked that she had never noticed any such troubles. I was vindicated a few weeks later, when the school director shared the reason behind the HT’s change of wardrobe. She had gone into the bathroom, and gotten a little something on her pants, so she just took them off, and went back to her Montessori work station. Naked. It was a few minutes later before her teachers noticed that she was just working along without her pants on. Naked, I tell you!
I was running a little late to pick up the Cruise Director from an art class at the local University, so I called to the remaining two, time to go! And I discovered the Queen Bee, lying in her bed, watching a program on the iPad, NAKED! “Hurry hurry! We have to get in the car! Why are you NAKED??!!!” So she grabs some pajamas (even though it isn’t even dinner yet) and we head down the hall. The Tornado sees the Bee in her pjs, and runs back to the bedroom. “Come on, we are getting in the car!” I go back to the bedroom, and find her, now, NAKED! AHHH! I just had everyone clothed a minute ago! I picked her up, and the clothes she’d shed, and put them in the car. I would just have to bring naked with us, and hope it would find itself fully clothed before we drove up alongside any other cars…
This morning, the crumbsnatchers were finishing up breakfast, and the Cruise Director announces she needs to get dressed because she was naked. She was, of course, not naked at the breakfast table, but wearing a robe. But when her sister asks, “You’re naked?” the CD then opens her robe, and gives us a little hip wiggle before running off to get ready. NAKED!
I wonder if we had a boy in the mix of crumbsnatchers, would the naked problem be any less? It would probably be just a whole different type of naked. But right now, I don’t know how to get rid of the naked. We have a lot of clothes in this house. They just don’t stay on my kids long…
If any of you come to visit, don’t be surprised if I don’t answer the door right away. I am probably just trying to hide my naked troubles.