Down two flights of stairs and into the living room, she is completely unfazed by her own nudity.

“I can’t find jammies.” She is whining and sprawling and we are blushing at our own offspring. And laughing.

I often ask my kids, “What if Dad and I acted the way you are acting right now?”

I’m here to tell you, if Chase were to do this every time he was frustrated, he’d get whatever he wanted just so the act of disgrace would end.

How are kids so unashamedly comfortable in their own skin?

I suppose nudist colonies would be similar. But where would the personal boundaries start and stop? How does one determine what is appropriate and what isn’t? I don’t think I’d survive long in one, assuming I could ever get past my own moral code. Which I can’t.

It makes me wonder about the trusting, free nature of children. And about “faith like a child.” Humanity began in nudity. Unashamed, free, out there nudity. And it was beautiful.

I wonder if we’ll just be a bunch of undressed innocents in heaven. It might be worth the surrender to get there, just to find out.