my children are nudists

   i am beginning to think that my children are nudists. sure, it's one thing in the summer to have the desire to take off articles of clothes. it's hot. it's humid. they're young enough. they do not yet understand that it's socially unacceptable to disrobe in public simply because your hot. weather in your own back yard, or the park. to them? it's all relative.
   the other morning, i walked into my daughters room to get her out of her crib and greet the morning. she had been in there for a little while talking with her various stuffed animal friends while i ground coffee beans and set the machine to full octane. the night before she was dressed in a diaper, a long sleeve onesie and fleece-feetie-jams that once belonged to her brother. when i walked into her room she was wearing her diaper and half of her onsie. the fleece-feetie-jams were on the floor as if thrown carelessly by a teenager. she is only 19 months old.
   okay, i get it. the zipper on the front of the fleece-feetie-jams is very fun to play with. and grace has been witness to the countless times her brother sports a sweatshirt only for the pure joy of unzipping it and pulling it open to reveal his "super" shirt, a phenomenon know in our household as, "ripping his shirt" complete with the superman soundtrack "deet de de deeee!" as played by his mouth. while i was a little stunned that my daughter had started to get undressed without me, i was able to explain it all away.
   i brought her into my room, let her tuck herself under my covers and lay her head on my fluffy pillows while i put her favorite cartoon, ciallou, on the telly. once the theme song started i proceeded out the room to the kitchen for my coffee. only i was stoped in my tracks at another strange sight. i backed up. literally. walked backwards thinking my eyes were deceiving me. i peek into the cracked door way of my four yr.old son's room, and yes. he too was naked. naked as the day he was born, crouched under his bed, hinney up in the air, arms bracing his upper body, his face as scrunchy as can be. i pushed his door open a little more, "mikey?" i asked. boy did i scare him! he jumped higher on all fours then i thought possible while crouching under a bed.
   "mommmmmyyyy!"
   "mikey? honey? what on God's great earth are you doing?" i asked, holding my breath for the answer.
   "mommy," he started. then, as if in defeat, he set his forehead down on the silvery, grey, carpet before him. "i'm turning into batman."
   i shook my head, closed his door and headed down the hall for my coffee. this is how the day started. i don't ever recall bruce wayne turning into the batman in such a manner, but if my children grow up to be nudist, i won't be surprised.