Dear C (aka Il Duce),

Wish I could have witnessed the charming little scene outside your front door this morning. Next time, perhaps, you could order them to parade around the block, with a pause outside our house for a twenty-one gun salute? It may be the most effective way to wake my own children up. As for A. – saluting at fourteen months! You must definitely put that down on all her private school applications, while of course making it clear that on no account does she support any kind of military conflict, esp. those embarked upon by the Bush administration. Meanwhile, we like to take a more laissez-faire approach to child-rearing chez moi, which is why you may have seen my children attempting to dress, eat breakfast and race for the bus simultaneously this AM, while their father barked orders at them to ‘Run faster!’ But what do you expect from the kind of white trash that persists in sending their offspring to public school – not out of some ideological zeal, I hasten to add, but simply through the unfortunate marital and financial decisions they have taken in life? Guess my first mistake was signing up to the be the mother of my husband’s first family, not his second or third, which is how most people seem to be able to afford school fees here in DC.

Sieg Heil,

P.

C,

Speaking of Carpe Diem, what is your family policy on the wearing, or not, of underwear in bed?  My sisters and I were raised to roam free beneath our nightgowns, but latterly I have developed something of a phobia about the prospect of being caught sans culottes by potential burglars or my children, who are getting to the age where seeing their own mother or father naked leaves a lasting impression, akin to the blindness caused by staring directly at the sun. 

I ask only because my invariably right and never interfering mother-in-law has taken it upon herself to inform my children that it is positively unhealthy to wear undies in bed – something to do with letting it breathe, although I have no idea why ‘it’ only requires oxygen, like trees, at night.  Nevertheless, my impressionable young daughters promptly threw caution to the wind, right there and then, and it’s been a frenzy of knicker-burning ever since. 

I wouldn’t mind, except that my dear MIL neglected to supply them with the appropriate Victorian-length nightgowns that should accompany all such political statements, or teach them the accompanying behavior, which requires that one forgo practicing half-lotus position or being photographed by the paparazzi on each and every occasion one chooses to go commando.

Do you know of any etiquette schools in DC that might teach them this, without at the same time trampling on the delicate flower of their self-esteem, which at present dictates they let it all hang out? 

Faithfully,

P.

P.S. Saw Au pair at the bus-stop this am, engaged in earnest discussion with M. Should you be concerned?

P,

Thank God I’ve got you to distract me with these urgent matters or I might notice that AP has asked that we have a special mediation session at her agency to determine whether we might "work on" some unresolved issues.  I don’t suppose sending her on that three day spa weekend will do any good at this point.  Frankly, all I can hope for now is that she too overpopulates the world one day and is saddled with a helpless twit of a teenager as her only lifeline to the outside world. 

‘Fraid I might not be much help on the bare bush front as our only controlling family precedent is a firm rule requiring a good Clorox spray down of any eating areas on which naked parts have sat.  I fear I subscribe to your MIL’s philosophy, only on a 24/7 basis.  Air is an important commodity when so much of  life is spent accomodating the entrance of potentially hostile invaders, right?   You may be pleased to know the result of our house rule is a rather prudish second cherub who nearly refuses to remove her bloomers for even the necessary potty time. 

I hesitate to mention that she has noticed the abundance of girl parts on view at your house.  She does seem a bit offended by the new open door policy, so to speak, and may take it upon herself to lecture you on, as she calls it, your newfound immorality.  Don’t worry, the lecture isn’t long, although rather tiresome, so may I suggest you use the time to reconsider your home’s to-do list?  It’s a trick I’ve mastered during intimate moments with hubby and it really works wonders on my enthusiasm and engagement in the process, especially the time it occurred to me just how lovely our bedroom ceiling would look painted in a very pale shade of yellow.

Faithfully,

C.