How to get in trouble, for parents

Last night we went to the home friends Melissa and Nathan for dinner. They live in a quiet subdivision of attached condos, and their back door opens onto a pretty retention pond with fish, facing many other homes. Melissa made a delicious dinner of skillet lasagna, and we had wine and beer while Arabella amused herself jumping on the wall-to-wall carpeting, something she rarely sees.

During dinner Arabella went to the bathroom and managed to get poop on her pink satin shorts. I rinsed them in the sink, but then they were wet, and she was left wearing only her t-shirt and panties (I don't bring clothes for her anymore, since she has mostly gotten past the stage of needing extra clothing). No problem, said Melissa, and tossed the shorts in the dryer. In the meantime we figured Arabella had enough on for being inside the house.

A short time later we adults had a little after-dinner shot of Kahlua and Baileys. Arabella wanted some, seeing the tiny and brightly painted shot glasses. I convinced her she didn't want it ("it's coffee" to which she replied "ew"), but she really wanted something in a cool little glass, so Melissa put some water in a shot glass for her.

A few minutes later we look over to the back door where Arabella is standing pressed full length on the screen door, in t-shirt and panties, with a shot glass in her hand, calling loudly to the fish in the pond.

We were expecting Child Protective Services any second.