Still feral

Amy: “Mom! Evan’s on the trampoline.”
Me: “Okay.”
Amy: “He’s *naked.”

Every window in the house is like a television whose channel can’t be changed, so I went to the trampoline channel/window. Tiny clothing was scattered on the ground in a pattern that could only be caused by tossing the clothing off of the trampoline. On the trampoline, a 6-y-o with a grin that was impossibly big, jumped on the trampoline. His feet touched the trampoline surface for a moment, then his body seemed to float weightlessly in the air before landing and taking off again. The child who prefers to be naked and loves to bounce on the trampoline discovered that the combination of two good sensory experiences combine to create bliss. At the very moment I realized how watching Evan’s joy made me feel calm and happy, his sister reached the trampoline. “Mom said you hafta put your pants on or come inside.”

I hate being the mean mom who makes children wear pants, bathe regularly and have bedtimes in the summer. No. I like clean, well-rested children. I love my little nudist.

*She pronounces it nekkid.

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