I Had Our Social Status Wrong All This Time

When we moved into our current location, we had grand plans to build a house. Turns out that putting in a septic system (hola, sand mound!), well and driveway cost a leetle bit more than we anticipated. Since we chose not to be up to our eyeballs in debt, we instead purchased a very (very, very, very) used single-wide trailer and put off plans of building for a few years. Long story short, those few years grew into nearly a decade before we proceeded with our grand plan of a "real" house.

In that decade, we had no end of fun making white trailer trash jokes about ourselves. We're not afraid to embrace reality.

After we built, I had strict rules about what Sam (the collector) could and could not leave lying about the property. (Which were promptly disregarded.) I figured since the trailer was gone, our trashy image should be hauled off right along with it. Turns out, that wasn't the case. Being sans trailer, we figure we have simply upgraded to redneck status. I'm just calling it like I see it.

The whole potty training of the smallest son is still not coming along that well, but I'm still not too discouraged. He is, after all, only 6. One can't expect miracles. (Ahem.) The whole "keep clothing on at all costs" scheme has gone right down the tubes since potty training is so much easier when the boy is unhindered.

See how that redneck status fits us well? The boy runs around nekkid all day long. And we allow it. He's very tan and I'm a bit envious.

A few times he's managed to do a Big Push outside and I am not so deluded to think that I'll be able to get him to a toilet in time, so instead I stand over him (or yell across the yard) "you should really poop in the potty." It's effective, let me tell you.

NOT.

After such incidents, we take full advantage of the fact that he's outdoors and we're secluded here (mostly) and I simply hose his nethers out and send him on his way, with yet another admonishment to get to the potty next time he has to go.

We are SO rednecks. It's just who we are.

But then it occurred to me while hosing him down with so-warm water that it must be almost pleasant to have a bidet right there in the great outdoors to follow you around and clean you off at your beck and call. And the word bidet got me thinking about the French, who all but invented the nude beaches. And that's when it hit me. We're not rednecks, we're classy.

Micah, the nudist with a personal outdoor bidet, has singlehandedly elevated our status from American redneck to classy French.