In the name of disease control

So I was "sunning myself" earlier this week.
(I hesitate to use the words "tanning" or "laying out", even though that is what I was doing. But I'm a homeschooling mother of 7, who lives on a farm--how could I possibly have time for a half hour of that???????????)

I had on a tank-top/cami-type shirt for this purpose. I had it on under another tank-top, because I don't like to wear anything with spaghetti straps. (What a weird term for a part of one's clothing.)
But I was trying to achieve a little more sun on my skin and so I took off the top tank-top and had on the tank-top/cami-type shirt, all in the name of preventing rickets, of course. I am all about preventing disease.

I told Linnea to tell me if someone was coming up on the yard so that I could put the other tank-top back on.
Someone like my father-in-law, for instance--who was coming up from parking a tractor and was going to talk to the kids (they were splashing in the pool and running through the sprinkler).

So I'm laying there...basking in the sun...and in the nearly-unheard-of 15 minutes of down time for Mom, when Linnea calls out:
"Mom, get your shirt back on! Grandpa's coming!"

For some reason, Grandpa didn't come all the way up on the lawn...