Despite our best efforts and our hardy yankee genes, we are apparently raising ourselves a southerner. Not only does the child y'all and ma'am with the best of them, but he cannot STAND to be cold.
On Sunday Larry and I hung our outside Christmas lights while the Bomber watched. He started out dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt and a sweater. Then he asked for his winter coat. Which he promptly zipped all the way up to his chin. After his first trip outside, he came back in and asked for a hat. Five minutes later he demanded mittens. Then he climbed up on a chair on the front porch and started rubbing his arms, saying "I'm SO cold!" with each word punctuated by a dramatic shiver. It was an award-worthy performance. Since I didn't want him to expire from the cold, I went inside and grabbed a blanket to wrap around him. When I was all finished he looked like this:
Pitiful, isn't it? I know, I'm a terrible mother, subjecting my child to such frigid temperatures just for the sake of Christmas decorations. In case you were wondering, here's what the weather was like on Sunday: