So far, we have been having a pretty manageable winter in this neck of the woods. We had one decent snow storm right before Christmas, leaving everything glistening like a Hollywood movie, letting us enjoy a true White Christmas.
Since then, the weather has been average really, hanging in the 20s and 30s, allowing the snow to linger and the kids to get great usage out of their sleds, snowpants, and boots.
A miraculous thing happened a few weeks ago. We had an unseasonable January warm up, melting the snow piles and bringing neighbors out of hiding. A true Nebraskan knows that this is just a mirage and the harsh reality of a midwest winter can resurface at any moment, so we have to get, while the gettings good. The temperature gauge hits 40 and people leave their coats at home, shorts replace pants, the bikes come out and runners clog the sidewalks. We know these days are rare gems and to squeeze out all the enjoyment we can.
Then Mother Nature reminded us where we lived. Winter snapped back into existence with a stretch of days where the high, yes the HIGH, was 9*. When you wake up and the newstation graphic says 3*, it just puts you in a different mood.
And apparently the switch from unseasonably warm to polar plunge, sent my daughter into a tail spin. She does not enjoy the cold weather, not at all. When the mercury dropped, it effected her brain….
Yesterday’s my husband stepped in the front door of the house and exclaimed, “It feels gross in here.” And he was right. Despite the cold winter temps outside, the house was unusually warm. Quickly, I went and checked the thermostat.
I looked at the settings.
Paige looked up at me, “I did.”
“I was cold. I don’t like being cold.”
“It’s January. Put a sweatshirt on. Changing the thermostat is above your pay grade.”