Sometimes I am sure that child doesn’t have a lick of sense…

by Janie Jones

…and must have been switched at birth.

We’ve had a few below freezing nights.  We’ve even had a few snow flurries.  One morning we woke up and Fall in the Great White North had fallen.  I like fall and I like winter.  Hence, I live in the Great White North.  I love fluffy robes and sweaters.  I love wool and angora hair socks.  I love down comforters and scarves and fluffy mittens.  I look forward to breaking out winter pjs and flannel sheets.  I eagerly await the first morning waking up to a blanket of pristine white snow and the cold crisp air.  Everything seems quieter, clearer, brighter.

My darling spud however, lives in denial.  Her new nickname is going to be Cleopatra, because not only does she live in denial, but she’s fast becoming queen of it.

In the last week there’s been all sorts of comments about being cold (as she insists on still wearing shorts and spaghetti strap tops), about wanting windows closed at night as she resists extra blankets and wears skimpy jersey knit sleeveless short sets to bed.  And when I try to rain logic and the obvious on her parade she goes into full blown Bartelby the Scrivener mode on me.  This morning I rise from my slumber in sweatpants, long sleeve tee, and fluffy robe from beneath 3 blankets, one folded in half and another made from 80% wool to see her once again in skimpy shortie pajamas shivering under a throw blanket.

Me:  Dammit child, if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a dozen times, put some freaking clothes on.

Spud:  But I’m not cold, just the house is.

Me:  It’s almost winter, you shouldn’t be wearing those summery pajamas.  Put on a robe and some sweatpants or flannel pajamas.

Spud:  But why.

Me:  Because your sitting there sporting goosebumps and shivering under a thin throw blanket.

Spud:  But I’m not cold, just the house is.

Amazing, the circular logic of seven.  *throws hand over face, shakes head and sighs tragically “Ah, Spud.”*

She better not start responding, “I’d prefer not to,” for her sake and mine, or I’ll really become concerned she’ll end up freezing to death working in a dead letter office in Siberia.

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One Comment to “Sometimes I am sure that child doesn’t have a lick of sense…”

  1. Next time the pjs go in the wash, leave them there…problem solved.

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