The nudist colony

Another thing no one ever told me about raising two boys: I live in a nudist colony. But not all the time. Only when a repairman or UPS driver arrives. These small nudists are also exhibitionists. 

I knew we had two packages being delivered this morning and that the AT&T repairman would be here sometime between 8 and 12. Everyone was still in jammies (hey it's Friday) but I had ensured all booties and weenies were properly covered. The doorbell rings.  Quick glance in the living room. Yep, still dressed. I open the door and see it, the shocked eyes. I turn around to see the big one in Star Wars briefs and the little one naked from the waist down, playing with his boy stuff no less. Approximately 10 seconds had passed since I confirmed clothing. Apparently they are also magicians. Nudist, exhibitionist magicians. 

With the door wide open I begin yelling, "put your pants on!  Where is your diaper!?  Stop playing with your weenie!" After a brief chase and football tackle, Charlie is rediapered and Connor has disappeared.  It's that magician in him. 

The polite repairman is still standing on the porch with a little smirk.  Completely embarrassed and a little winded from the chase I say, "I am so, so sorry..." He cuts me off. "I have a three year old son."

So he lives with a nudist too. Ahhhhhh...camaraderie.