Nicole feels

On the way home from SC, the kiddos began the ritual we-are-hungry-can-we-stop-right-this-second-and-get-something-to-eat whine-fest. We were in the boonies of NC at that point, the only sustenance advertised on the delapidated billboards touting hot women along with the hot wings.

"The only place that is near here that serves food, the women who work there are topless," Rob yelled over his shoulder toward the cherubs in the back of the van.

"Topless?" Parker queried.

"They don't wear any shirts, Parker," replied Kaytlin in that I-am-12-now-and-have-lived-so-much-more-life-than-you tone only a preteen can pull off.

"No shirts!! Do they wear bras?" he asked.

"No," she said, a bit exasperated. "No shirts and no bras."

"No shirts and no bras?"

"No, Parker." (Insert impatient sisterly sigh here.)

It was quiet for a bit while Parker pondered that nugget of knowledge.

"Hmph," he finally said. "They must have really good belly buttons."