I am distracted from the civil unrest of K and E's video soccer game. This is because T has become curious about my underwear. I discover this not by fielding a pert question from him, but through a sudden vigorous tug to the waist of my shorts.
True to my general uncling principle of honoring requests, I allow him to finish his research. "You wear boxers like me when I go to bed!" he shrieks as if he's just discovered the secret of time travel.
I suspect that he plans to yank down other pieces of my clothing. I am right. And just in time to stop his giggling reach, I slam into practice one of my few uncling limits, the no-nudity policy.
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