Dear Nosy Old Ladies of Pittsburgh,

Hi. You don't know me, but you have met me. In fact, you have spoken to me. Well, more like you have spoken AT me. You started by making a statement of the obvious and telling me that my kid is cute. That is a very true fact, and flattery gets you everywhere. The problem is that you followed that up by dropping a little dig.

"She looks so cold!"

or

"She really should have her coat zipped."

or

"Did she lose her hat and gloves?"

and my personal favorite

"Poor little thing is going to catch pneumonia dressed like that in this cold weather!"

SHUT UP.

Did I say that loud enough? I can wait for you to turn up your hearing aid. Ready? OK. S-H-U-T U-P. SHUT UP.

*ahem*

Look, my kid? Is a hot-blooded little freak. She was surely the only person at Heinz Field a few weeks ago who was sweating when it was 20 degrees out. She's always hot. ALWAYS.

Today she wore a skirt, tights, and a sweater to daycare. When I picked her up? Her hair was SOAKED because I had dressed her too warm. FOR THE CRAPPY ASS WEATHER.

Personally, I was wearing a turtleneck and sweatshirt and was still freezing. I learned a while ago that she's not me and I'm not her. If I'm comfortable, she's hot. If I'm hot, she's about to melt. So if she says she doesn't want to wear a hat, her hood, gloves, or even have her coat zipped, I roll with it. She is perfectly capable of telling me she's cold. If she says it, I put more clothes on her, or at least I would if she were ever actually cold.

She's not.

So, do me a favor and mind your own business. I am a master nagger (Mr. Husband loves to tell me to get off my Nagasawki). I'm doing a very sufficient job of fussing at the kid that she has to wear a coat and whatever else my Mother Brain says she should be wearing. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, because we have it under control.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

The Lady Who is about to Start Punching Old Women if They Don't Quit with the Unwanted Advice