I think I speak for us all when I say it is an absolute necessity to see Scarlett Johansson naked.

So with this objective in mind, I had the DVD of the film Under the Skin delivered to my library. Here in Southampton you may request that any Bucks County library deliver your desired item to  our library.

This is what I did with Under the Skin, and when I received the email that my DVD had arrived I hurried to procure my treasure.

I ran into someone I know at the library, as is bound to happen when you are trying to secure semi-pornographic material. And not just anyone. One of my school-mom friends, hocking girl scout cookies with her daughter - one of my daughter's besties. The only thing that would have been worse would be my dad catching a 19 year old me coming out of a hotel with my boyfriend.

Yes, that happened, but we'll move on because my mom reads this blog and she has no knowledge of that incident.

(Mom- that's just residual delirium. Didn't happen.)

Arriving home, I hatched a plan with Husband. We would watch the movie with a bottle of wine during and some very un-Mommy/Daddy activity after.

Now, this was a Saturday night. Saturday night in my house means my kids go to bed with a movie of their own. This typically results in numerous trips out of bed to inform us of the highly important plot points of A Very Perry Christmas or Air Buddies.

Obviously, that was not going to help us accomplish our goal of seeing ScarJo in her full frontal glory.

So we did what any good parent would do in this situation. We prayed one of our offspring would engage in some behavior unpalatable enough to warrant suspension of movie night.

I think we both know that did not happen. They were, like Tiny Tim in church on Christmas Day, better than gold.

Our next best option was to put on the Parent Face and instruct them that they were not to exit their room until their movie was over. Surely that would work - if their movie is two hours, and our movie is two hours, we - the parents - get to see our naked celebrity body parts in peace.

And I think we both know that did not happen either. First of all, to get to the nudity, you have to sit through about an hour (right Mr. Skin? No - an hour and 15 minutes? Thanks!) of our girl in acid wash mom jeans and what I'm sure is my dad's HVAC truck. But finally, gloriously, she gets naked - in front of a mirror. The camera slowly pans from the top of her head to the toes of her naked feet.

But just as the camera started at her head, we heard Daughter's door shoot open. Her feet pounded down the steps, as accusatory and resolute as Poe's telltale heart.

We grappled for the Blu-Ray remote, somehow managing to hit "pause" at the moment the image stopped on Ms. Johansson's feet. Phew.

Daughter bounded into the room and asked that most insidious of questions:

"What are you guys watching?"

"A documentary. About feet," I replied.

"My leg hurts," she complained. Evidently, she was oblivious to the fact that her father and I were trying to have a date. What was confounding her? I was dressed for the occasion - sweat pants, sweat shirt, Muk-Luk slippers. My plush electric blanket - set to "high heat" - and cat graced my lap. My book about the Lusitania was at the ready. Clearly date night. Go back to your room, kid, right?

Husband told her she could be in the follow-up to our feet documentary, which would be about legs. Not mollified at all, Daughter slunk off to bed.

We hit rewind and went back to our hard-won soft-core nudity. It would just be so much easier if Banshee or Game of Thrones would be on all year round.

With one ear cocked to the stairs for little feet - well, medium feet; you don't get kids with little feet when your husband wears a size 13 shoe - we watched again. Listen, ScarJo naked is ScarJo naked. I'm comfortable enough in my (hetero)sexuality to say it was all I had hoped. Just know you don't have to watch past the money shot in front of the mirror.

I mean, who doesn't want their girl to wear these on date night?

And that was it. When it was over we barely had enough energy to put on The Big Bang Theory.

Wait, you don't watch TBBT before your un-Mommy/Daddy activities? Hey - you prep in your way, I'll prep in mine, OK? This is a judgement-free zone.

Fortunately the next night - at my father-in-law's birthday party - Daughter announced to my in-laws that at night "Mommy watches inappropriate movies and drinks alcohol." To my in-laws.

Yes. Yes I do. I watch inappropriate movies and drink alcohol. With their son. And now you know why.

So I told my in-laws about the movie, and now Husband thinks I'm inappropriate, too.

Mark and Bruno Mars if you freaky, then own it.

I'm the reason he got to see ScarJo naked.