I went to college in Syracuse, New York, which I believe is the coldest and most miserable place on the face of the Earth that does not actively contain any Palins of the non-Michael variety. (What? He was my favorite of the Pythons, and also the very best thing about A Fish Called Wanda, and there are few circumstances that would not be instantly improved by the presence of a certain shopkeeper.)
Anyway, my point is: Syracuse is cold and miserable and clearly inside the Arctic Circle, and I spent four winters there, and for a while I was very smug about the whole thing. Like, look at these tiny fools, pretending to suffer in the cold. (Granted, that post-collegiate-early-twenty-something-punk-ass-itude could have had more than a little to do with it.) I didn't wear a proper coat for quite a long time; I made it work with layers and turtlenecks and flannel and scarves and warm gloves and the occasional Nana Beanie. Gradually, I worked my way back into down vests and polarfleece and preheating my car for at least 10 minutes before I get in it.
I don't like the cold any more, is what I am saying. Right now I would be perfectly happy if I could chunk myself up on potatoes and pasta and cheese, crawl into a cave somewhere under an electric blanket turned to "Furnace," and hibernate until at least the middle of April, when most of the danger of snow has passed (unless you are in Syracuse, where it snowed six inches on Mother's Day in 1996, the weekend I graduated from college).
Not my kid, though. She wants to be outside, all the time, no matter the weather. Yesterday we had to clean the sidewalks and dig out my car so I could go into work for some year-end overtime, and she not only volunteered to help -- she insisted.
One second we were snuggled in bed together, she and my husband and I, and she heard me mention that someone (read: HIM) needed to go outside to take care of the snow removal, and she jumped up, ran into her room, and was completely naked and ready to get dressed before I had a chance to figure out what happened.
If only I could figure out a way to get her that excited about cleaning up her room, or her toys, or the sofa after she's been lounging all afternoon. Perhaps I ought to put everything out on the porch.