Great Moments in Parenthood, Part 2

My children have grown so much since last June that I'm afraid my husband won't even know what to make of them when he gets home from his deployment. Sure, they've grown a few inches each, but they've grown up even more.

My daughter especially has matured so much. The child who never, ever craved Independence is now starting to experiment with it a little.

And I've been experimenting with letting her have more responsibility. Some of those experiments have worked out well. Some haven't.

Like when I let her make lunch for the two of them and they ate an entire jar of peanut butter with four spoons. (I have no idea why it took four spoons.)

But these forays into responsibility have reminded me of one of my most embarrassing parenting stories. This one will get told to my daughter-in-law some day.

Back in the Spring of 2006, I struggled with whether or not my kids should be allowed to play behind our house on their own. Our backyard opens right up to a playground where I can look out at them from any room in my house. My kids are very well behaved and I can trust them to follow rules. Plus, we live on a military base for goodness sake. You couldn't ask for a safer neighborhood.

So I decided to have a trial run where they played outside while I cleaned in the kitchen. My daughter was supposed to watch her little brother and I spent most of my time watching them too. I only glanced away now and then while I emptied the dust pan or put away a dish.

I glanced up from one of these chores only to see my son's lily, white butt. He might as well have been wearing a sandwich board that read, "Judge my mother!"

"Oh no!" I exhaled as I ran toward the back door.

I made it to that sand box in record time.

"Honey! Are you watching your brother?" I yelled as I sprinted.

"Yes," she yelled back."

Yeah? Are you watching him take his clothes off?"

"Ack!" she screeched. "He's naked!"

As I ran by the little pile of clothes he had left in the grass, I snatched them up. My plan was to cover him and race back to the house. But his jeans and underwear were wet. So I ended up wrapping him up in my arms and scooting the two of us into the house as quickly as I could.

Apparently, he was too busy playing to come into the bathroom. And naked is fun.

We are not a naked family!

Needless to say, they weren't allowed to play outside without my constant supervision for quite a while. And now when the little girl from next door tells me, "We're not allowed to play in the sand because kids pee in there," I can say, "I know," with great authority.