I can only now bring myself to talk about it – such is the impact on my family.

On Sunday evening, wearing my trusty grey dressing gown, I flashed Mollie, our female cat.

Swinging dangly bits, hip sways, whatever real flashers do, I did, my wife looking on aghast. Mollie's normally inscrutable gaze faltered a little before she rolled onto her back, hands clasped cutely at her chest, legs 'akimbo.' Cute.

To me it felt liberating.

Giving an added sense of perspective, Mollie is coming up to her 4th birthday – all-but 7 months spent in our home (assuming the dates we were given are appropriate.)

And then it happened.

"You do know you just flashed your daughter," my wife said.

Ah.