When in Rome ...

Is going topless really that much more fun?

Yesterday was Kaila's birthday party. The theme was Candy Land. We had 20+ kids hopped up on sugar, painting glass gumball machines. Talk about bulls in a china shop. Unbelievably, we had no breakage -- unless you count the teary-eyed preschoolers who thought "drop-off party" meant total abandonment by their parents.

Post-party, we let the wild present-unwrapping rumpus begin. Gift wrap exploded, ribbon was furiously unfurled, cards were sent flying. I scribbled names and present descriptions faster than a Type A bridesmaid at a wedding shower.

As I write this post, the kids are playing with a new favorite toy -- the Typhoon Ultimate Bubble Machine. And, I have to admit, it's loads of fun. The backyard looks like a bubble farm. And, because it's 80+ degrees out, Madan is now shirtless. Suddenly ...

"Mama?"

"Yes, Kaila?"

"I'm taking my top off, too."

"No, Kaila! Keep your shirt on, sister!"

"But, I'm hot!"

Oh, that's a slippery slope, I thought. Sure she still has the same chest as Madan, but at some point, despite the privacy hedges in the backyard, I have to stop her. Otherwise, years from now, when she rips her bikini top off on a makeshift runway in Cancun in front of a billion strangers, it will be all my fault. Not the beer's fault. My fault for failing to teach her that you don't show your tatas in public just because you're hot.

"Kaila. Hot women in America keep their tops on."

"Noooooo." She started flapping her shirt, exposing her belly button . I'm taking it off."

"Honey, seriously. Girls in America keep their tops on. Girls in Europe take their tops off. We live in America." Kaila shot me a puzzled look and went back to making a gazillion and one bubbles. Next thing I knew, she was soaked. She looked down at her shirt. She looked up at me. She thought for a minute.

"I'll take this one off, and put Madan's on."

That's my American girl.


Uh. Oh. Trouble in Cancun.


Good girl!