The other day Carter asked me if he could go skinny dipping in our backyard pool. Considering the time of day – it was daylight – and our location – the middle of one of the largest cities in the U.S. – I told him that, no, he could not but that he could swim in his underwear. Our backyard is rather private so I felt that this was a decent compromise.
He looked at me strangely and told me he thought that swimming in your underwear was skinny dipping. I explained what skinny dipping really was and then attempted to shock him by telling him that some people in our household had been known to skinny dip from time to time, back in the day.
He was not shocked at all. He then proceeded to make me feel old and schoolmarmish by pointing out that it was probably poppa as “…you would never do that momma!”
“Sasha would do it,” he said “she goes fur dipping!” He laughed under his breath as he headed out toward the pool, a trail of clothes already forming behind him. Before he left the room I heard him say, “Nothing but fur.”