DISCLAIMER: I own Jenny. Joss owns all else.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the third in the Mommy's Little Capitalist vignette series. You don't need to read DEAR BEARDED MAN or THE PERFECT COSTUME to understand this one, just know that Jenny is Anya and Xander's four year old daughter.

SUMMARY: Anya and Xander's daughter explains to someone on the playground why she refuses to wear underwear; Anya converses with the other mothers.


"For one thing, it itches," four year old Jenny Harris declared. Two little boys stared up at her, wide eyed. "And if you don't wear it, you don't have to buy it," Jenny continued, "and if you don't buy it, you don't have to pay for it, and if you don't pay for it, that's good capitalism."
Jenny looked down at the sandbox. "Keep digging, small people," she told them briskly. "There's got to be money-treasure down there somewhere."
Obediently, one of Jenny's friends started digging. The other one wrinkled his nose at her.
"I don't think I like this game very much any more," he said. Jenny smiled down at him brightly. "That's probably because you're wearing underwear," Jenny told him plainly.
Silly male child, she thought. "Everything's more fun without underwear," she told him seriously.
The little boy stared up at her skeptically. He didn't really think underwear was the problem. It was hot, and he was tired of digging just because a girl had told him to. Jenny was just sure there was buried treasure, and all of the little boys who came to the park knew that you just didn't argue with Jenny Harris when it came to buried treasure.
The other little boy wriggled around. All of a sudden, his underwear was starting to feel very, very itchy.

"They're so wide-eyed and innocent at this age," Pamela Blake said, just out of ear shot. She looked at the children and smiled. The other mothers nodded.
"Just the other day, little Travis asked me if today misses yesterday," another proud mother said.
"That makes no logical sense," Anya said, her voice bright.
The other mothers stared at her. Anya smiled at each woman in turn. The other women just exchanged glances. Anya persevered. "Yesterday and Today are contained temporal units," she explained, smile still in place. "They have no feelings."

Pamela cleared her throat and raised one hand to her neck. Anya wondered what she was doing wrong. Was she supposed to be sharing stories about the cute little things her daughter said on a day to day basis?

"Little Ryan asked me last week if-"

Anya cut the woman off. "My little Jenny," she said, in very good imitation of the other women, "asked me just this morning if ponies had orgasms." Anya smiled indulgently at her daughter, and at that exact moment, Jenny turned to her mother and waved, her pigtails dancing in the sun.

"Well, isn't that.nice," Pamela Blake said, arching one delicately waxed eyebrow.          

Ryan's mother turned to the woman next to her. "Do they?" she whispered.

"Yes," Anya answered loudly, overhearing. "Often and with small-horse-like vigor."

"Oh my goodness! What in the world are the children doing?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the ever-proper Pamela Blake rushed over to the sandbox, where her son was vehemently removing his trousers. "Trenton!" she said. "Sweetie, we don't get undressed in public, remember? The little man stays in our pants."

Jenny looked curiously up at Trent's mommy. "Little man?" she asked, confused. What was Trent's mommy talking about?

Trent glared up at his mother. "It itches," he said frantically, trying to take his underwear off.

"Do you mean his male penis?" Jenny asked curiously. "Is that his little man, Fussy Lady?"

The woman glared at Jenny, and her son took the opportunity to wriggle out of her arms, peel off his underwear, and run screaming toward the other end of the park. "Noooooo mooooooore underweeeeaaaaaaar!"

Jenny frowned. Now there was only one little boy digging for buried treasure. That wasn't very economically sound. She tugged on the bottom of Anya's shirt, and in one smooth movement, Anya swept her daughter up in her arms. Jenny laid her head down on her mommy's chest, and Anya looked at her watch. It was almost nap time for Jenny and Happy Sex Time for Jenny's mommy and daddy.

Jenny yawned and closed her eyes. Her silly boys could help her find money- treasure another day. "Mommy," Jenny said in a small voice, nearly asleep, "Daddy doesn't have a little man in his pants, does he?"

Anya kissed the top of her daughter's head. "Of course not, Little Capitalist," she said, rocking the child back and forth. "Daddy is quite large and conventionally shaped." With that, Anya carried the child to the car, and before they were even home, Jenny was fast asleep.

Anya smiled to herself. Xander was waiting for her at home, and Jenny had been asking for a baby brother. "And that," Anya said to herself, "is why I don't wear underwear."