My boys are pretty young still, and we aren’t super-worried about modesty within the confines of our house. This may change as they age, but for now, they don’t seem to care at all about what I wear. This seems normal and healthy to me, and I’ve never worried about it. When I was pregnant with Ozzie, I felt like he was an on-board space heater, and I frequently would hang out at home in a sports bra and shorts to avoid feeling like I’d die of heat stroke.
One day when I was about 8 months along, Dash and I were sitting on the floor playing with some cars. He was driving them over my arms and shoulders and then crashing them into the ground. Then he started pulling on the back of my sports bra, which had a little cut-out at the bottom center, which provided a perfect handhold for him to yank on it. Once he saw that it was stretchy, he started pulling on the top of the center, looking to see what was under there (spoiler: there’s back skin!) and just exploring this new thing he’d never noticed.
And here’s where it gets really cute: He decided this must be like checking a diaper, which was done to him at least once or twice daily at that point, since he was still a couple of months shy of turning two. We’d grab the back of the diaper, pull it so we could glance down at his butt and see if that diaper was “a stinker.” He grabbed my sports bra, pulled it and put his face up to the opening and said, “Stinky? nope!” At this point I didn’t know he was playing diaper inspector, so I thought he might be telling me he was going to go. I asked him, “Dash, did you poop?” and he pulled at my bra again, and said, “Nope! No poops.” then he decided that for good measure, he’d better check from every angle. It’s your standard sports bra, which has the single panel between the shoulder blades, rather than two straps like a regular bra. He pulled from one side and peeked in, “Nope.” then the other side, “Nope.” a second time from the top, “Nope.” and lastly, even the bottom, which he couldn’t figure out at first, but decided the best way to check it was by looking through the little cut-out, “Nope. no poopies. No stinkies, Mommy!” Then he gave me a round of applause.
All in all, I suppose it was nice of him to give me the 100% certain verification that I had not, in fact, crapped my bra. Whew!