Our temperatures topped out at about 71 degrees today and my kids, scarred from our brutal winter (sorry Northern folks—I realize "brutal" has a very different meaning in the South but it's all relative), were playing in the yard and decided to pull out the hose this afternoon. There were screeches of laughter intermixed with a few high-pitched angry screams. Aaahhh… the glorious sounds of Spring. Not long after the laughter faded, Bubba showed up in the kitchen buck naked from the waist down. Here's our conversation:
Me: What happened?
Bubba: I got wet.
Me: Where are your pants?
Bubba: I don't know.
Me: What do you mean you don't know?
Bubba: I can't remember (it's important to note that just 2 minutes prior his pants were on)
Me: Well, you need to go find them.
Me: (a little frantic) Wait! Put some pants on first! You can't just walk around naked in the backyard.
Bubba: But Sissy is.
And that, my friends, is how it came to pass that my kids are running around my backyard as I type this in 70-degree weather with their bathing suits on. It's a beautiful thing.