23 degrees and snowing

Well, John says it's snowing. To me, the world just looks mildly blurry, more like I might need glasses than anything else. But hey, if the 7-year-old says it's snow, I'm bound to trust his opinion. Young boys are, certainly, more highly attuned to "the presence of snow" than 30-something women who wear cardigans and wool socks and have no vested interest in snow as long as they don't have to go out in it.

Now, however, I'd like to know why Smidge is surprised that his Thomas sandals don't keep him warm. Three times, I said, "Put on socks, and your warm, brown shoes." Three times. And three times he slipped out the back door in a stinkin' t-shirt and summer sandals without socks. Now he doesn't want to go out "because it's too cold". Well, no kidding, genius! Gah. (I hate to sound curt, but seriously, this child has already contributed more than his fair share to the growth of the Klingon bump between my eyebrows.) I do have hope, since he's not Toddler Insane anymore, but still - why? WHY on EARTH would Mom tell you to wear socks and warm shoes? Or, heaven forbid, get down your big blue coat rather than your green fleece hoodie? Because she doesn't like you? Because she likes to torture you? *snort* Obviously.

And the fact that John's out there in boots, a coat, hat and gloves, having a glorious time? Certainly, that must be proof that he's simply given up on standing his ground. John's gone and caved to the Evil Maternal Empire.

That's okay. The myopic snowfall isn't really quite sticking, and it won't last long. As soon as the temps come above freezing, we'll be heading to the store for yummy things like bananas and milk and eggs. And then, I won't seem so evil, and he (wearing a coat and warm shoes at that point) won't seem so revolutionarily insane, and all will be well with our world. Sometimes it pays to have the same attention span and short-term memory as your younger children. :-)

I just have to remember to give the list to James before we head out, or we'll come home with a random hodge-podge of things we probably don't need.

I'm so thankful I didn't have all five children in one fell swoop. The staggered ages help me keep things in perspective. The little ones are cute, I mean really cute. Those great big eyes and top-heavy head:body ratio can make even the most criminal-feeling behavior seem surmountable and give you hope. They remind me that the big ones looked like that once, and that makes me smile, makes me remember that it'll be gone all too quickly.

The big ones, well, they simply aren't insane anymore. They have the ability to reason and discourse (not that they always use it, but they do have the ability, and I cling to that). They make better decisions on a more regular basis, and can usually spot their bad decisions with very little prompting or explaining. They are helpful and funny. The think it's funny when we tell them that they did the same things the littles are doing now. That, too, gives me hope, and makes me smile.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy