Mila has fully and completely embraced her destiny. She is going to be a beach bum later in life, JUST WATCH. It was probably November or so when she realized we didn't spend a week at the beach in 2018, and she was mad. So mad. She has since reminded me at least weekly that she better get some beach time next summer. OR ELSE.
(I'm a little scared of what is going to happen when we don't go to the beach for a week again this year. Thoughts and prayers, please, because it's not on the agenda.)
At the same time that she's realizing the universe owes her beach time, she's decided that cold weather is stupid. I'm answering, "Is it summer yet?" daily and we seem to be spending a whole lot of time arguing about how much longer Mila will have to wait for warm weather. I mean, with global warming and all, it could swing 50 degrees in the next few days and she might be happy.
::blink::blink::
My car reported -8° this morning. We're getting that 50 degree swing and then some.
She's not going to be happy. It's going to warm up long enough for her to remember that life is better without pants, and then it's going to get cold again. An angry fit is headed my way.
OH WAIT.
We already had one of those.
This morning I made Mila bundle up before going out to the car. Normally, I warm the car up and let her have a pass on wearing a coat, but there's not much I can do when we can't find any degrees. There's no magic I can toss around to make walking the ten steps to the car warm enough. (Do NOT ask why I don't park in the garage. It's a sore subject.) She was mostly okay with putting a coat on. She thought gloves were a fun idea. Her hood was okay, even.
And then I opened the door. Mila took exactly two steps out the door, spun around on her heels, and declared, "IT'S TOO COLD. I'M STAYING HOME."
I had to drag her out kicking and screaming. I'm relatively certain the entire city of Pittsburgh felt every ounce of Mila's misery.