When I got ready to drive my kids to school this morning there was snow covering our deck and our yard. It was 33 degrees outside. And yet The Youngest Boy was dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and a light nylon zip-up sweatshirt.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “No. No shorts. There’s snow outside!”
He started to offer a counter-argument but I cut him off.
“No! Put on pants! Now!”
As I donned my boots and my red winter jacket -- which has already gotten use this season when I'm inside those meat lockers that they call youth hockey rinks, I noticed that The Youngest Boy had indeed changed into track pants yet was heading toward the garage without a jacket.
“Get a coat!”
“But . . .”
“GET A COAT! There’s SNOW outside!”
He slung his hockey jacket over his arm and then took a seat in the vehicle.
“Put the coat on,” I said, calmer than I'd been a few minutes prior. I put on the breaks and idled in the driveway waiting for him to don the coat.
Flash-forward several hours later: When The Youngest Boy entered the house after school he wasn’t wearing the jacket and was wearing shorts. His track pants were rendered into a crumpled up ball inside his backpack. He swore that he just changed into the shorts at the end of the day, before gym class.
Color me skeptical.