Youngling got out of the tub the other night and ran down the hall squealing and giggling. I chased him, and he only giggled louder. He loves this game. After about a minute, he corners himself on purpose with a look that can only be described as pure mischief. Then he lets you catch him. Once caught, he expects to be held down, tickled and covered in kisses. Then the giggling really starts. Almost two years old is such a fantastic age.
He especially likes this game when he's naked: after all, what is better than tummy kisses? Anyway, back to the other night. As he lays there giggling and fighting off the diaper I'm trying to put on him, my seven year-old comes running down the hall. Also naked. He is fresh from the shower and he has obviously taken the time to dry off and comb his hair, but he somehow failed to put on the clothes I left sitting outside the shower for him. He threw his arms wide, shook his buns and yelled, "What do you think of ME!"
I yelled right back, in my most amused mommy yell, "I think you're naked! Put some clothes on." (There is a lot of volume set to high in our house.) He ran back to the bathroom.
Just as I got Youngling's diaper on, child number two made an appearance, underwear on his head singing a song he and Jedi made up called "My Underpants." This song has few lyrics but you can only sing it while naked or in the process of putting your underwear on.
I turned to Plantboy, who was watching a basketball game, and said, "You know, I think boys like to be naked."
He nodded and said, "I can prove it."
Scienceteachermommy loves proof. "Okay," I challenged.
"You always went to girls camp, right?" Nod. "Did you ever pee to put out the fire?"
"Did you ever run naked around the fire, chanting and yelling? And don't even ask me where the leaders were--probably hopped up on benadryl in their tent."
"Never ran around the fire naked."
"Well, did you ever burn your underwear while roasting it on a hot dog stick over open flames?"
"All of these things happen at Boy Scout Camp."
So. Boys do like nudity. And fire.
I'm now going to add a couple of anecdotes to add to my overwhelming proof for my boys-like-to-be-naked-(and-also-love-fire) theory.
In high school, a large-ish group of us went camping after graduation. The fire was dying low and it was getting very late. We decided to head to bed--boys in one tent, girls in another, if you wanted to know--but the guys hung around for a little while. Finally one of them said, "Girls, we need to put this fire out and you need to go to bed." A few girls had clued in to what was about to go down and helped get the rest of us herded into our tent.
I can't even describe how horrible flame-broiled logs covered in urine smell.
This next story really happened, but if you don't believe me, I don't blame you. If I hadn't experienced this story for myself I'm not sure I could buy it either. I can appeal to Tiffany (who checks in occasionally) to vouch for my honesty here. Chrisw probably also heard this story very shortly after it happened and can back me up too.
In Logan there is lawyer's office with an indoor pool. Apparently the partners wanted to build a pool for their families to use, and since you can only swim outdoors in N. Utah about two months of the year, the practice was the obvious place to put it. They built a small basement apartment with a separate entrance from the office and rented it out to a couple who then maintained the pool in exchange for cheap rent and scheduling rights to the pool.
Tiffany was my roommate (along with PammyLee, Pocohantas and Pocahantas' cousin, Steph), and her sister happened to be living in the pool apartment at the time. For several weeks she had promised we could come, and finally was able to get a Friday night free for us. She put our names on the calendar and gave Tiffany the key, as she was out of town that night.
It was a dark and stormy night (I swear I am not making this up), and freezing outside. As soon as we walked in the door at the law office, we knew something was wrong. We could hear a bunch of voices coming from the pool. We were so bugged. We'd had the pool scheduled for like two weeks and some spoiled lawyer-brats were using our pool time! We debated on staying or going, but righteous indignation won out.
Tiffany said that she just wanted to see what was going on before we started kicking people out, so we went into her sister's apartment and Tiffany walked up a short flight of stairs to the back pool entrance. She crept very quietly.
Twenty seconds later she came shooting back down the stairs like she had seen a ghost. "Naked," she said, rather breathlessly, "All naked. Probably 20 guys. All naked."
AAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! That is when the giggling started; but of course, the question of kicking them out was answered. Being naked in the pool is like licking the sucker--man, you own it.
Steph, who had seen a bit more of the world than the rest of us, didn't buy into the "let's leave now" proposal. She'd come from Dixie College to the land of the frozen chosen without even a sweater. She had a bikini drawer, for crying out loud! Steph was not afraid of the melee up the stairs.
She walked right past us, and we saw her stand at the top of the stairs, hand on her hip, and we just knew she was giving the eyebrow as only Steph could. Oh, and she was a total babe.
About fifteen seconds after she planted her hot self on the top stair, the screaming began. And then the running. We heard a lot of swearing and at least 20 variations on the "Dude! It's a chick!" theme. Wild Steph, her hand on the hip and the eyebrow had cleared the room in less than a minute. She didn't say a word.
All of these naked guys were now holed up in the law office. She walked over the door, ripped it open and very sweetly asked who was hosting the party. A very sheepish looking individual, probably a college freshman, made his way through the crowd and she told him, in those same honeyed tones that WE had the pool reserved and they had about five minutes to be dressed and GONE before we started making some phone calls.
She flounced her lovely curly head back down to where we huddled, laughing our heads off at the bottom of the stairs. We waited five minutes, swept the last few out of the office, locked the doors and changed--one at a time, behind locked doors, thank you very much. No group nudity for us.
As if this is not all weird enough, we think that some of them actually came back and were looking in through the windows. Other than Steph, and maybe Pocahontas, none of us were girls that you would seriously scout out in their swimming suits. Especially if you had to climb a hedge to do it. In February. In the snow. So they were exhibitionists, desperate AND creepy. Still, if I was going to write a horror novel this would probably be a great start. At one point we thought we saw both hands and faces pushed against the glass poolhouse through the steam and condensation.
So fire, nudity . . . and, oh, yes, lightsabers. We had a Dos de Mayo party at Tabula Rasa and Jamin's house Saturday. She and I wanted to make homemade tamales and it is always fun to hang out with them. Between us, there are five boys: we watched a lightsaber fight that probably went on for a good hour--two if you count the Wii. My favorite is when Jedi yells, "Now in slow motion!" and everybody fights in slo-mo. The facials are awesome. When I asked Jedi the other night why he wasn't firing his dart gun back at me, he said, "Mom, my bullets won't defeat you! My moves will." Ah. I think his moves need a little bit of work. I probably hit him forty times.
So I guess my boys like to be naked, but maybe this momma likes violence.
Sabbath Revival: “Sweet Hours of Prayer”
13 hours ago