My son is a hot-blooded boy. He thinks wearing a long sleeve shirt under a short sleeve shirt counts as winter gear. He swims year round and refuses to wear anything after getting out of the water other than his suit, towel, and flip flops.
I, on the other hand, am a self-diagnosed weather wimp. As a Bay Area native, I complain when the weather is too hot (over 85 degrees) or too cold (below 65 degrees). I don’t own a real winter coat, because HELLO! this is sunny California! Most winter days, I can get away with a pair of Uggs, a fashion-over-function scarf, and a sweater.
But for the last few days, I’ve never felt so cold. Getting into the car this morning at 7am, my thermostat read 32 degrees. There was ice on my windshield. I don’t own a scraper thingyamabob tool to scrape it off. I’ve pulled out the coat that I usually reserve for skiing. It’s red, it’s ugly, but it’s keeping me warm.
My son, however, hasn’t read the memo that it is freezing outside. He’s still trying to get away with going to school in a short-sleeve shirt. Every morning it’s a battle. “Put a coat on!” “It’s not that cold.” “It’s freezing!” “I don’t want to!” “I don’t care if you don’t want to. It’s freezing. PUT A COAT ON!” “But I get hot at school!”
This morning I instituted a new rule: Don’t wear a jacket, pay me a buck. I figure it can help offset his medical care costs when his toes go black from wearing flip flops to swimming in 40 degree weather.
So far, I’m a dollar richer.