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Sexy underwear was coming to town! Victoria's Secret announced its grand opening in a colorful (mostly flesh colored) full-page ad days after the opening of a new shopping mall.

After four years of baggy cotton briefs and absorbent nursing bras, I was ready! When I pointed to the sexy model wearing a thimble full of silk, my husband Charlie and I decided to go. I had doubts about bringing Sean, our four-year-old, along, but we didn't need no stinkin' babysitter!

Inside the busy Victoria's Secret, sales staff helped customers make selections and graciously ushered them to plush dark-pink fitting rooms. I browsed sheer lingerie and became smitten with a tiger-striped push-up bra. Lost in a fantasy of wearing this little number under a starchy business suit, a Mona Lisa smile on my face, I was distracted by a giggle. Then the sales woman next to me began laughing. Curious, I looked up.

There he stood.

Face down in a stack of panties.

Our son.

Sean was rolling his face side to side, groaning with pleasure at a display table in the bustling entrance (of course). Passing shoppers slowed their pace to stop, look and listen. They also pointed and laughed.

I glared at his dad, the two of us instantly telepathic.

"Do something!"

"I don't know him."

"How can you not know him? He's tethered to your wrist!"

"That may be, but he's 10 feet away."

"Are you kidding me? You were supposed to keep an eye on him!"

"Look at this stuff!"

"I was trying to! Get him outta there!"

"Nope."

"Fine!"

I walked over and gently asked my son to lift his face from a stack of Mediterranean-blue silk thongs.

"Aw, mom, they feel soooooo nice on my face!" he protested loudly, his timing impeccable as he patted his cheeks for emphasis. A woman behind us erupted into a loud belly laugh. Blushing, I marched him to a bench a safe distance away. His dad followed at the end of the 10-foot tether, still pretending he wasn't with us. I handed Sean over and told Charlie to stay out.

I didn't buy anything, but I made a couple shopping decisions that day - leaving the boys home and wearing dark glasses and a trench coat the next time I browsed there.

- Cynthia Washington

Cynthia Washington, a retired federal employee, lives in Washington State (honest!), is a freelance journalist and a creative quilter. She's written on many topics including compost worms and surviving a near-divorce experience after an archaeology dig "vacation."