Pretty + Cold = Pretty Cold

With a full moon at night and a blue sky all day, everytime I go outside I can't help but say to myself, "It sure is pretty . . .," then pausing awhile I add, " . . and cold, too." If I'm dressed right, it's really not that cold but more often, I'm not. The gloves, hat, coat, and boots remain in the entryway while I zip in and out of the house to do whatever needs done, getting wood, starting a vehicle, or running to an outbuilding to grab something, and halfway through the little errand, I'm cold.

One morning this week, Wyatt complained on the way to the bus stop about why he is the only one who has to walk and everyone else in the neighborhood gets to ride in a nice warm car. Maybe its my parents rubbing off on me, but instead of sympathy he received "Lecture 101" about the stupidity and laziness of warming up a car for a 1/2 mile walk. Because we hadn't quite made it to the bus stop with the first lecture, he received "Lecture 102" about the importance of facing the elements, toughing it out, and learning the world isn't always a warm and cozy place. And the easiest place for him to learn that lesson is in 7th grade on the way to the bus stop in the pitch dark, when the temperature is hovering around -5. I doubt that he believed or even listened to a breath of my insightful wisdom, but I'm guessing he learned not to ask the question again for at least another year.