Because there is a story to tell.
Each year, we celebrate Mother's Day with brunch at the local golf club. It's a somewhat fancy affair. Last year I was about to give birth and my wardrobe options were severely limited. So, I was excited that this year I would have a chance to look presentable. I dove deep into my closet and emerged wearing a dress. This wardrobe choice made quite an impression on my oldest, Jillian (5).
Maybe it was the novelty of the dress.
Maybe she liked the feel of the fabric.
Whatever the reason, once I had the dress on, she wouldn't leave it alone. She kept tugging on it. Running the fabric through her fingers. Messing around with the hem.
So there we are. I'm standing in the buffet line fixing Jillian a plate. She is at my side, looking around the room, dancing in place, people watching.
"Do you want a waffle?"
"Do you want syrup?"
At this point, we head over to the fruit table.
"Do you want pineapple or strawberries?"
Jillian leans up against my leg and says, "Strawberries." So, I start picking out a few berries from the tray. That's when I noticed things felt a little "breezy" from behind. It took a few seconds for it to register, but as I turned to look down at Jilly, I realized she had pulled my dress up and was holding it there. My derriere on full display.
Did I mention I was holding plates in my hands?
"Jilly, what are you doing!?! Put my dress down!"
The sense of urgency at this age. Really impressive.
I manage a little half-turn so the dress falls out of her hands and quickly scan the room to see if anyone realizes they were just flashed. I think I'm in the clear.
Jilly and I quickly walk back to the table. As I sit down, I tell my sister, "You are not going to believe what just happened."
Her eyes wide, she asks, "You are wearing underwear, right?"
Uh, yeah. I'm no Britney Spears. But that's small comfort at this point.
"Did anyone see?"
That's when my dad piped up. "I think I was the only one."
That's comforting and mortifying all at the same time.