I am engaged in a half-hearted campaign lately to ensure that Henry is dressed before he goes outside, at least in the front yard. Our back yard is insulated from the street by the fenced in area for the dogs, which is waist high in dock and surrounded by scrubby trees, so is quite private, but in the front there's no hiding. I'm torn, because I don't want to offend against community standards, nor or course do I want him to catch anybody's creepy eye, but on the other hand nudity is the natural next step now that I have fully embraced barefootery. Also, there are so many other more important questions to put my foot down about, and I really love our easy indoor-outdoor life at home in warm weather and do not want to take on monitress duty at the door.
Nor do I know quite what to say to justify the rule. I have been telling Henry that now that he's four and a half, he needs to wear pants in the front yard, which makes no sense at all, of course, but he has been surprisingly accepting.
So I was a little surprised today to catch him heading out the front door in the altogether. I was on the sofa. He was hovering behind the sofa's high arm.
"Henry!" I said. "You need to put on some pants!"
"I really, really don't want to," he said.
"I'm sorry," I said. "But you do. You're just too old now to go out without your pants."
"No, Mommy!"
"Why don't you want to wear pants?" I asked.
"Because I am pretending I am a bee." His face flushed with delight at his game. "And this is my stinger!"
He turned around, revealing a lacquered yellow chopstick, business end out (thankfully), protruding from his bottom.
