pants off, dance off

We have, what I fear, is becoming a serious problem over at casa de Howell. An increasingly lax attitude towards the general principals of modesty and decorum. It can be summarized as follows:

Pants off! Dance off!

This came to my attention after reading this interview with David Sedaris in which he talks about his father spending the majority of his time at home pantless, even going so far as to answer the door in his underwear. How embarrassing, right? 

Flash forward to this morning at my house. 

We've got baby Will cruising around the house in his standard uniform ... a shirt and diaper ... or no shirt. Whatever. That kid screams bloody murder on the changing table and it's not worth the struggle. At least he gets to show off all the awesome mosquito bites up and down his legs. 

almost naked and happy

Joe's morning ensemble consists of a Spiderman pajama shirt and Batman underwear. He has always been of the opinion that superheroes don't wear pants so he shouldn't either. For a while wearing tights was acceptable, but now that mom bought him these sweet new superhero underwear that is over. I mean, Green Lantern undies? Who would want to cover those bad boys up?

did I mention he's an awesome bed-sharer?

And Mama Howell in my favorite sleeping shirt. Vintage 1997. Maybe Fall 1996. It's so soft. But with no pants either. Yup. I'm standing in the kitchen making egg-in-a-holes (eggs-in-holes? eggs-in-a-hole?) with only a thin layer a flower-covered fabric between my bottom half and the world. And I wonder where these kids get it. I mean seriously... have you ever stopped to reflect on just how ridiculous you are? I am often both amused and appalled.

This particular shirt was for our "Grease" themed homecoming float.
Apparently there was some sort of mix up ...

It's worth noting that Mr. Howell does not participate in this nonsense. He's always been the most modest and sensible of the Howell clan and for that I applaud him. Somebody has to keep this family respectable.

But for the rest of us, sadly, there is little hope. We are much too comfortable around each other to cover ourselves or to even close the blinds on the front door for the benefit of passersby (passerbys? passersbys? who knows).

I apologize.

But we do have some pretty intense dance parties. You are totally invited. No pants? No problem!

olive juice, okay?

emily

p.s. this song and this song from this morning's dance party