No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem

My sweet (reserved) retired professor of a neighbor came over to invite us to a fundraising pancake breakfast the other day.

This is the scene that was awaiting his eyes when I opened the door to greet him:

It makes me think back to all the times Lena has answered his knocks at the door like the leader of some sort of nuddie joint ("howdy neighbor come on in, clothes are optional here"). At least some of those visits she was wearing undies.

I wonder what kind of mother he thinks I am.

Probably the kind that lets her kids run around naked all day while playing on the stairs with an entire roll of toilet paper.

Aaand, he'd be right.