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I'm In Love with a Stripper

I've gotten a lot of "mom calls" over the years while at work. 

Your kid said the F bomb calls. Crap. 

He fell off the play structure and bumped x, y, or z, body part, calls. 

He had an accident and is wearing a pair of pink leggings, calls. 

The dreaded, he smacked a friend call... although, if they were really friends, why would my kid smack him?

But I've never gotten a call about my child stripping. 

That is until Carnell decided to show his preschool friends his cash and prizes. 

Yep. Winner, winner. I'm that mom. 

When I got the call, I thought, oh, nothing big, boys will be boys. Maybe he just wanted to show a friend his Power Ranger undies. 

But when I got to the daycare, it was illustrated for me explicitly. This was no simple check out my chonies mooning. 

This was a full frontal show, complete with removal of his shoes and socks. 

Now as hilarious as this may seem, I had to question the level of supervision involved, since he was able to not only pull down his clothes, but strip from the waist down... 

Not once... 

Not twice... 

But all darn day apparently. 

Nelly thought it was the most amusing slapstick he'd ever put on. I didn't. 

But have you ever tried to explain to a three year old why it's not okay to show your no-nos? It is an absurd conversation to say the least. 

Shortly thereafter, we understandably parted ways with the daycare. 

It was  a mutual decision. 

I thought his teacher was a little incompetent. 

They think I'm raising the next Chippendale's star.

And maybe they're right.  

 

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