So it's about 52 degrees outside today. I am not complaining - 52 is great! Much better than the freaking freezing cold couple of months we've had here. Spring is definitely on the way. However, 52 degrees is not T-shirt weather. Or so I'm trying to convince Tarzan. Tarzan, you see, is aptly named. He would love to run around all day in nothing but a loin cloth. We also call him our little furnace. (Or, if he's saying it, our little foo-niss) Both he and Cinderella requested a picnic, so I hauled out the Steelers blanket for him, and the pink picnic table for her, and prepared said picnic. I am wearing a t-shirt, a sweater, and a light jacket, and would really like to go back in for a pair of gloves, maybe a hat. I mean, yeah, the sun's out, but it's still pretty chilly out there, folks. But is he remotely cold in his T-shirt and nylon, unzipped jacket? NO. In fact, we battle for about 5 minutes about the fact that if he wants a picnic, he has to keep the jacket on. Poor Cinderella tries to emulate her hero big brother, but her little hands get cold, and secretly I think she's quite happy to let me win the battle of keeping her coat on.
Muddy shoes, muddy hair, muddy fingernails.