Mia's school had a little end of year program this week - some singing, some dancing, lots of totally adorable children running around and hugging each other eight times each and making deeply serious pronouncements about how much they would miss each other and issuing strict orders to have a good summer. It was adorable.
Now, whenever you are in a room with 100 three, four and five year olds, you expect to see rather a lot of buttcrack. Those non-existent preschooler butts just aren't up to the job of keeping their pants north of the equator, and the kids don't help matters with their haphazard pants-pulling-up abilities. But oh man, I have never seen so much buttcrack in all my life as I saw at preschool this week. And it wasn't the kids, it was the moms.
I know, trust me I know, how hard it is to wrangle a couple of kids while keeping your low-cut jeans in a somewhat appropriate position. And since I have the longest torso known to man, I have the added challenge of usually not being able to rely on the length of my shirt to cover any trouseral runs for the border. That is why I wear belts. It is also why I wear low-cut underwear with my low-cut jeans. I could tell you the color and cut of underwear that at least one quarter of the moms were wearing at preschool this week, and I got to the point of considering that a blessing because if I was looking at underwear at least there was a better chance that I wasn't looking at butt.
I think we need to launch a public service campaign to encourage people to keep their butts to themselves. All I need now is a slogan. Anyone? Anyone?