I arrived home from my water aerobics class to find AJ sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor in his underwear eating a bowl of yogurt and strawberries.

AJ: Mommy! (spoken as if I had been gone for seven years, rather than an hour and a half)
Harriet: AJ! Where are your pants?
AJ: I don�t know.
Harriet: Were you wearing some before?
AJ: I think so.
Harriet: Did they get dirty?
AJ: No.

After I tracked down my husband (who was, alas, not in his underwear) and determined that the reason for AJ�s pantslessness was not, in fact, due to an accident or a lack of fashion sense but that he had no clean shorts. So I did what any self-respecting mother would do. I pulled a pair out of the laundry, spit on the spots and rubbed them off, and handed them to AJ.

I was telling this story to my friend L. this afternoon. �I leave the boys home by themselves and they wind up sitting around in their underwear.� L. rather intelligently pointed out, �Well, it could have been worse. They could have been sitting around without their underwear.�

And yes, that is what passes for news in the Harriet household today. It is simply too hot for drama. We are crabby and groggy and melting. I hope you all are faring better.

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