Someone once said, “If God wanted people to be nude, he would have made them that way.”
Malcolm takes that to heart. It might even be his motto. And not only do I think he does it to “feel free”, but I think it is so he can be more aerodynamic.
Think about it. No clothes to create more friction against the air when running. It’s like those body suits that swimmers wore one time in the Olympics to shave off a fraction of a nanosecond to get that last little edge.
So, we woke up this morning to the rumblings of a little ginger and the “pitter-patter” of footsteps through the hall. Malcolm had been up throughout the night, but he was full tilt by 5:30. Lights had been turned on. Toys played with. Situations created.
And the first thing my wife and I saw as we peered drowsily out of our bedroom door was Malcolm looking at us. Yep, our very own streaker.
If you have never listened to any Ray Stevens songs, then you should. His songs are legendary in my part of Georgia. Humorous, anecdotal, and timeless.
There is one song called “The Streak” that talks of a, well, a streaker. Like the one in our house.
The chorus goes,
Oh, yes, they call him the Streak
Fastest thing on two feet
He’s just as proud as he can be
Of his anatomy
He goin’ give us a peek
Oh, yes, they call him the Streak
He likes to show off his physique
If there’s an audience to be found
He’ll be streakin’ around
Invitin’ public critique
And when Malcolm caught our eyes this morning, he just smiled. And ran. Streaking down the hall. Fast, I might add.
You do get used to it after a while, and he mostly does it around the house, but there have been incidents.
There was the time when he briefly streaked Manchester Plaza at Wake Forest University during an event called KidsFest. Student organizations put on a small festival for kids with special needs and their families. It’s a great time. Lots of athletes come and help. The kids run wild. (Brief aside – I just asked my wife what the event at Wake was called. She asked me what I was doing. I said a blog post. She rolled her eye and asked if the post was about streaking. See, it’s fairly prevalent.)
There was a dunking booth. It has water. Malcolm loves water. Therefore, Malcolm loves dunking booths. Logical, deductive reasoning.
Malcolm has no bathing suit, but he has the next best thing – a birthday suit. In a matter of .5 seconds he was “butt-nekid” and running for the booth. The sun shone brightly that day against the white moon of his, yeah, and all of God’s creatures got to see one of God’s creations in the raw.
We did catch him. But he was pissed. Majorly. His hair got another shade of red. Actually, it was flaming.
There was another incident at the YMCA. Malcolm might be the only kid at the Robinhood YMCA to get thrown out for a day for streaking. We are not sure what precipitated the event, but we suspect that he heard something from an adult about picking something up and he did not want to comply.
So…, he simply “dropped trou” and started running in the kids’ room. That’s an interesting conversation to have with a worker at the Y. “I’m sorry, but your kid was nude and we have to ask him to go home.”
“Do you mean he can’t come back?”
“No, not at all. He can come back tomorrow.”
“Is this some sort of policy?”
“We think so, but….”
“Listen, I understand.”
“No problem. He’s pretty fast isn’t he?”
“Aerodynamics of nudity.”
Needless to say there is some humor to it all, but there is a part of me that is a tad bit envious of his shamelessness. It’s how God made him. Actually, I might be a little proud.
Well, we are about to go to the YMCA. Malcolm will go to the kids’ room and I will try and work out in hopes that if I did streak myself, I won’t be so embarrassed.
No telling what he will do. Really, no telling.