“I’m ready for school!” six-year-old Molly chirped.
“You can’t wear that,” I scolded, as I buttered toast and slurped coffee.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because it’s snowing outside, and you’re in a bathing suit!” Molly replied with a grin and a dismissive shrug. Kids must have different thermo-regulation than adults. At the slightest whisper of cold, I’m wearing wool socks, long johns, and four parkas for warmth. My offspring, on the other hand, wander around the house in short sleeves and bare feet like they’re on the French Riviera. At what age does your internal furnace sputter and die? For me, it was around age thirty. Suddenly I was grumbling about gas bills and open windows, because “I’m not paying to heat the darn outdoors!”
I can’t seem to handle the heat anymore, either! Summer, my favorite season, can be just as uncomfortable as winter. While other people are breezing around in cute rompers and sundresses, I’m sweating and beet red in my cotton t-shirt and oversized shorts. Will the madness ever end? Andy and Molly (my six-year-old) could stay outside in the blazing sun all day, running and jumping, and I’d be hiding in the shade, starfished on the ground and praying for a breeze. Yet I won’t retreat inside. After ten months of winter, I deserve sunshine!
There should be a way to upgrade your failing body parts. Your regulator’s broken? Here’s a new heating/cooling system. Your left knee clicks and clacks? Just swap that out for a new joint. Hair growing out of your ears instead of your head? Your wires are crossed, let’s fix that for you. Yes sir, a quick trip to the “body shop” (pun intended) and you’re as good as new!
I convinced Molly to change into more appropriate clothes. “I won’t get cold!” she insisted, “I promise!” Trust me on this one, kid. I finished my coffee and reminisced about when my body ran like clockwork; how long ago would that have been? Probably when I was Molly’s age! Oh, to be young again. Molly stomped up the stairs and declared she was dressed (for the second time). She was wearing jeans, a pink tutu, and a sparkly rainbow shirt. But the piece de resistance was her bathing suit, which she proudly wore on top of her clothes. With a surprised laugh, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “looks good to me!”. I’ve gotta hand it to her – she won this round!
