So, the other day, afternoon really, I was quickly changing into some casual, cook-proof duds, having just returned from running some errands. I barely beat the adolescents home, so I was still in the bedroom, in the process of clothing myself, when I heard one of them bleat "Mom!?"
As my head was enshrouded in my shirt he didn't hear my muffled response.
At the exact moment that the top of my head emerged, like a crowning newborn infant, through the neck of my garment, the boy burst into my room.
I heard a shriek, a moan, a strangled cry, and as I pulled the shirt down, veiling my exposed flesh, I came up for air to see him clutch at his face, covering both eyes with his hands, and drop to the floor.
That's why you should knock, I said. Just be glad I'm wearing a bra.