You unlock this door with the key of independence. Beyond it is another dimension. A dimension of cold. A dimension of puddles. A dimension of Mind. You are moving into a land of both clothing and skin; of nudity and ideas. You are moving into . . . The Naked Toddler Zone.

This morning, 9:00 am. Amid the hustle and bustle of showers and ESPN, the Toddler played happily with crayons and kitchens, babies and pianos. A shining example of good behavior. Then . . . something happened that changed all that.

What started as a fleeting idea soon became a morning-long commitment. With a slow stripping of the pajamas and a fling of the diaper, she became . . . The Naked Toddler. Strutting her stuff before Elmo and God, she fervently refused all offers of clothing. No diaper was good enough, no pants would suffice, she was devoted to her commitment to earn her way into a nudist colony.

She concocted recipes with a clang of her pots and a stir of her spoon. Never before had her kitchen played host to so much skin. Onward she moved towards her piles of books. With a quack, quack here and a moo, moo there, she chewed through cherished literature with nary a thread. Forward she strolled for a walk down Sesame Street, all her goods proudly on display. The Toddler persisted, Zoe blushed, the parents fussed.

A sincere congratulations to the parents who have survived, and a friendly word of warning; something you won't find in any parenting book. The next time you think you've gone beyond the typical phase and you've given in to the urge to tease your Toddler-having friends, know to keep you mouth shut, or you just may find yourself entering The Naked Toddler Zone.

(Photos exist, but you're not getting them. And yes, I have seen the intro movie to Disney's Twilight Zone Tower of Terror a few thousand times.)