“Girls have been wearing skirts and dresses for centuries…” Barb starts to say to me for the 100th time as I look at our girl and look out the window at the falling snow.

“Ah ah…I get it,” I interrupt what I know is her version of a history and daughter-woman lesson.

“I would be cold.  You would be cold, but…” Barb finishes up acknowledging what I was thinking that everyone else would be cold so why wouldn’t our girl be cold in her tiny skirt?

“I will be fine,” our girl says stomping up to me hands on hip and her best “I’m serious” look, which resembles her best “I have to use the bathroom NOW!” look.  Hopefully the looks will get more separation as she grows up, but for now I have been “put in my place.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to hear about the temperature,” I say to her.

“You won’t,” she replies stomping down the hallway wearing only one Spiderman boot.

Fast forward 10 minutes in the car on the way to get the boy.

“Why is it so frickin cold out?” our girl asks.

“So you are cold?” I ask sarcastically.

“NO!” she declares.

“To know that it is cold out you have to be cold,” I say.



“Why is it so frickin cold out?”

Fast forward 15 minutes to the parking lot of our local Meijers.

“Why is it cold out?” my boy asks.

“Are you cold?” I ask him.


We spin around to face the girl.

“He is cold and wants to know why it is so cold out,” I say to our girl.

“I’M NOT COLD!  He don’t know nothin,” she says in reply to us.


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