Prepare yourselves for some shocking news: the Mister sleeps in the nude. But I do walk naked from the shower up to our bedroom in the morning to help minimize the Towering Tower of Towels that tend to collect up there.
What I am trying to say is, we are a naked family. All of us: the perfect, unmarred children and the two slightly less pristine adults have no qualms about showing what nature gave us in the light of day. It's not like we're doing the Macarena and scrubbing the floors in our birthday suits, but if they ask, we let the kids shower with us.
My mom was always a naked mom. My best friend's mom (who was like an aunt to me) used to horrify her daughters and their friends by popping out of the bathroom in her full jiggling glory and shouting "naked woman!" While I wouldn't go that far (or would I?), I don't really see anything wrong with nudity in the home until it starts to bother someone.
There will come a time when the kids just say "yuck," but for now, no one even seems to notice.
Or so I thought.
The other day I had this conversation with Oliver.
Why are dad’s nipples bigger than mine?
Because he’s bigger than you. As your body grows, everything grows.
Why don’t girls have nipples?
They do. They’re on their boobies [yes, somehow this is the word that stuck].
But I don’t mean the kind that point down.
What do you mean?
People with boobies have nipples that kind of point down because you know, boobies are kind of heavy and they pull down.
That’s true. How do you know this?
Because I’ve seen yours and I always see you trying to lift them up.
Ta da! The kind of observations you set yourself up for when you walk around exposing yourself to 4-year-olds.
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