The other day I picked Kaylee up from the camp bus stop. She was all clicked in the backseat and we were a few blocks from the school when she asked, in a conspiratorial whisper, “Mommy, whose underwear am I wearing right now?”
“Well,” I started, trying to figure out what the best way to handle this might be and also wondering why on earth she was so concerned about the ownership of the underwear she was sitting in, “where did you get it from?”
“My bag,” she answered.
“Then, they are yours.” I answered, relieved that they hadn’t come from a mysterious source. “What do they look like?” I added, just to be sure.
“They have Hello Kitty on them!” was the excited reply from the backseat.
mildly majorly Hello Kitty obsessed, so it is a good thing I had just bought her a new pack of Hello Kitty underwear, otherwise it would be completely believable that she had decided someone else’s underwear was worth borrowing.
“Right, you have a whole pack of new Hello Kitty underwear. I just bought it for you.”
“Oh,” she replied, satisfied with the explanation, but slightly disappointed that the origin of her current underwear was not more exciting. Nothing else seemed worth discussing–she rarely tells us about her day at camp–and she passed the rest of the ride home in an exhausted stupor staring out the window.