…and inside, and in the car, and everywhere else!
It’s funny, but I have to remind myself frequently of just how much my boys are California boys. We had frost on the ground Monday, and Thing 1 (my eldest) was convinced it was snow. Really? He then proceeded to convince Thing 2 that it had snowed outside, and they wanted to go play in the snow. “No,” mommy says, “it’s very cold out this morning, and there is no snow to play with, just frost.” Thing 1 proceeds to waltz outside while I was loading the dishwasher, in his short-sleeved shirt and jeans and NO shoes or socks. Gah! Have you no idea?
I grew up in a part of Washington (state) that has four distinct seasons. My husband grew up in Seattle, land of rain and moderate, wet climate. We’ve lived in Chicago and Cincinnati, both of their own dramatic versions of weather. We currently live in a city with triple digit temperatures; our first day moving here the thermometer said 118 degrees. We can do almost every temperature.
My boys, however, being of the age of single digits, when every season is a completely new concept, are California boys through and through. Pants are optional. If they could, they would live their little lives in flip-flops. They like to ramble through the house in just their licensed character-themed underpants. And they think nothing of running the 100 feet out to their play structure on a frost-encrusted, 28-degree day.
“What, you mean I have to have shoes, mom?”