A couple weeks ago at Oscar's T-ball game, I was holding Lily on my lap, and a guy next to me looked at me so strangely, sort of horror meets disgust. I wondered what his problem was, and shifted uncomfortably. In a couple minutes, Lily was off, bounding up to her dad about 20 feet from us. I heard him say to Lily, "No! You can't sit like that!" I watched as he crossed her legs again and again, and I thought maybe Phil was taking this modesty thing a little too seriously.
Then Lily ran back to me, and I remembered a conversation we had had that morning, something about her not having any clean underwear (I often put off doing laundry until absolutely necessary, and obviously, even beyond that), and I whispered in her ear,
"Lily, are you wearing any panties?"
She answered no, and I looked down the back of her skirt. Sure enough. Sigh. I then told her a skirt is the worst possible thing she could wear if she wasn't wearing any underwear, but that next time, it's better to wear dirty than none at all.
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