Holding On To Summer

It's cold here, which shouldn't be surprising because I live in Minnesota and if Minnesota is known for anything it's cold -- which I had been reminded of about 50,000 times in the month before I returned to the frozen north three years ago from South Carolina.

(Seriously: If I had a nickel for every time I heard the phrase "Minnesota? You know it's cold up there." I'd have a healthy amount of cash. It'd all be in coins, but cash nevertheless. My boy would never want for nickels to put down those, uh ... wells where the coins spin down a drain. What the heck do you call those things, anyway?)

While I like autumn here, it's tough letting go of summer. I try to cook out as much as possible in the last few nice weekends of September. I go for walks. We soak in the sunshine and schedule outings. So, in a sense, I can understand The Boy's reaction a week ago when I set out a pair of jeans for him to wear to school last Monday.

BOY: DAAAAAAAAAAAADDD!!! YOU GAVE ME PANTS!!! I DON'T WANNA WEAR PANTS!!

ME: Uh, boy, it's going to be cold tomorrow. Too cold for shorts.

BOY: BUT I DON'T WANNA WEAR PANTS! I WANNA WEAR SHORTS! (Yes, by the way, he yells. In fact, yelling is his normal voice volume. Unless you want him to talk about his day or talk to another adult. Then he's mouselike.)

ME: It'll be too cold. You have to wear pants.

BOY: NO IT WON'T! IT WON'T BE TOO COLD! NOBODY ELSE WILL BE WEARING PANTS!! PANTS ARE THE WORK OF THE DEVIL! THEY'LL BURN MY LEGS OFF! I CAN'T DO IT DAD! I CAN'T DO IT! DON'T MAKE ME WEAR THOSE SATAN SLACKS! PLEASE DAD, PLEASE!

I did not relent, mostly because I feared a phone call the next day from school, wondering what the heck kind of idiot parent would let his FIVE-YEAR-OLD CHILD risk hypothermia wearing shorts in 40-degree temperatures with high winds. And when he got on the bus wearing pants I thought the issue was done, because he acknowledged that it was cold. But the next day, he was at it again, protesting the pants. And he rejected the jeans again the next day.

I could deal with it no longer after that, and I let him wear shorts on the fourth day, fully convinced that the moment he waited for the bus with bear legs he'd realize his folly and run inside to get a nice, warm pair of pants.

Instead he stood outside, his legs coated in goosebumps, insisting that he was warm.

And it continued like this on Friday, and then into the weekend and again today. Not once did my eldest acknowledge the impact that the cold was having on his bear skin. He simply acted like it was July and he was thoroughly warm. (By the way, on most mornings his first order of business is to go from his room to the living room where he'll bundle himself up in a big pile of blankets ...)

Finally, today, as I picked The Boy up from school, he informed me that he must wear pants tomorrow.

Why, I said.

"Because nobody else at school wears shorts," he said.

And?

"And because they won't let me play on the playground if I'm not wearing shorts." Alas, the teacher who runs his afterschool program laid down the law. No pants, no monkeybars.

Hmmm ... I wonder if that will get The Boy to pick up all his toys ...