It is nearly Thanksgiving, and yet it is 76 degrees today. Come on, people. If I wanted to be warm this late into the year, I would choose to live in another region of the country. Bring on the cold. I'm not asking for a blizzard, but jackets and sweaters are a welcome change.
I dressed my children for fall this morning, neglecting to realize that the weather was far from it. So, they were in long pants, long sleeves, and undershirts... and they were sweaty.
(Let's take a moment to also discuss how ridiculous Tyler looks in pants in general... he is the length of 18-month clothes, but he is the width of 12-months. The 12-month pants are inches too short, but the 18-month pants droop all the live long day. Hard to find a combo... even in the maternity-style toddler pants with the adjustable waist. He ends up looking like his waistband is folded in half around his body. It looks like I bought them on sale and I'm determined to make them fit. Really, I can't find any that truly fit. He's a string bean.)
My mom, who loves us all dearly and is appropriately far more concerned about their comfort than my image as their wardrobe manager, let them take off their shoes, socks, and long-sleeved shirts. What a nice Grandma. Everyody feels better. She undoubtedly avoided some serious temperature-related meltdowns before they started.
Except Tucker's undershirt is too small, so it doesn't cover his tummy. Awesome. My toddler's pants are falling off, and my preschooler's shirt lets his gut hang out. What a great day. Bring on the cameras. Let's document how darling they are in their misfit, trashy clothes.
But there were most definitely more comfortable. Who wants to wear winter clothes on a day fit for the beach? Not my children.
We'll try to choose more wisely tomorrow. Since it's supposed to be nearly eighty degrees again.