My kids have personalities as different as can be. But nowhere does it show itself as clearly as it does in their reaction to the weather. Doodles, who claimed that his favorite thing about the trip to Miami Beach was “the hotness,” constantly bemoans the fact that we live in New England instead of Florida. The minute the temperature drops, the boy becomes a couch potato, piling up a stack of books, planting himself in front of the fireplace, and settling in for the day.
The girl has the opposite reaction. She wakes up. “Snow? Can I shovel!” She’s the first one in her snow pants and ready to play outside. This morning as I attempted to shovel us out–attempted because it was one of those wet, heavy snows that doesn’t want to cooperate with the shovel–she proclaimed, “Do you know what my favorite season is? It’s winter!” And then she attempted to make a snow slide out of the mounds being shoveled.
I want to buy all of us snow shoes. Pie says, “Can we go today?” I tell her, “I haven’t bought them yet!” Doodles protests, “I don’t want snow shoes. It’s just walking in the snow with tennis rackets on your feet. And I hate walking.”
My sun worshiper and my snow baby. And never the ‘twain shall meet.
