It's post-dinner time. My wife is out with friends. I'm on the phone. The boys are running wild and unsupervised.
From the corner of my eye, I see Josh slam open the freezer, grab a green popsicle and discard the wrapper. Colin immediately begins screaming for his own popsicle, and while I'm getting one for him, I lose track of Josh.
Just to be clear, eating popsicles in January is not unusual in this house. It's also not unusual to spin around in circles in the kitchen while eating a popsicle, guaranteeing that colored popsicle drops splatter throughout the room. This bizarre popsicle spinning routine is what prompted the new rule that all popsicles must be eaten while sitting in a chair at a table.
So as I set up Colin in a chair to eat his own popsicle and continue with my phone conversation, I begin to notice that the green popsicle and the boy attached to it are missing. I walk to the bottom of the stairs.
"Josh," I call upstairs. "You have to come downstairs with the popsicle."
"I can't," he answers. "I'm naked."
Of course you are.