In the past week, we have gone from unseasonably warm to bitterly cold. This morning, they actually posted the local temperature on the bottom right-hand corner of the television screen as a decimal. What is the purpose of that? Does 1.9 degrees really sound appreciably warmer than 1 degree?
I had postponed the struggle, the ongoing saga of David and the gloves for when it got really cold. I could no longer deny that today was that day. I tried the usual coaxing and cajoling and finally decided I would simply wait for the bus.
David usually leaps from the door at the first sight of the bus, so that would serve as his motivation. I was determined that I would block his way out of the door and then, surely he would put on a pair of gloves or mittens or the hybrid mitten/glove combination things or fingerless mittens or even the SpongeBob gloves because I have purchased them all in a desperate attempt to find something that David will wear—willingly.
With the bus idling at the end of the driveway, we had our negotiation.
I must admit that my heart sank as David turned to look at me, walking down the driveway toward the bus, blinking back the tears. I felt guilty for a moment and then the thought hit me. You won that battle. I should be the one crying.
What was the flaw in my plan? Who really wants to leave the house, to a waiting bus or not, when it is 1.9 degrees outside? David was perfectly willing to turn right back around and snuggle up on the sofa watching his new favorite movie, The Polar Express. He had called my bluff.
And so I am moving on to plan B. As soon as I know what that is, I will be sure to tell you. Hopefully, we will have it figured out before Easter.