She Hung Her Lingerie Outside My Son’s Window—So I Taught Her a Lesson She’ll Never Forget (2 of 4)

Cue internal panic.

I smiled tightly. “No, sweetheart, just… laundry enjoying some sunshine.”

But it wasn’t just one thong. It was a rotating gallery of barely-there delicates—neon, lacey, bedazzled even—hanging directly across from my 8-year-old’s window. Day after day. Week after week.

I tried to ignore it. I closed curtains. I redirected conversations. I explained that adult laundry had… different personalities.

Jake, of course, was fascinated. “Maybe she’s a superhero? Her underwear is aerodynamic!”

I laughed nervously and told him his Captain America boxers needed to stay undercover to protect his secret identity.

But by week three, I’d had enough. I marched over to Lisa’s door, armed with polite resolve and PTA-level diplomacy.

She answered looking like she just walked off a shampoo commercial. “Kristie, right? What’s up? Need fashion tips?”

Deep breath.

“I was hoping we could talk about your laundry. It’s, um, right in front of my son’s window. He’s starting to ask… creative questions.”

Lisa blinked, then smirked. “They’re just clothes, Kristie. Maybe you need to lighten up.”