The coldest day (of a warm winter)

Today was a ridiculously cold day — given the otherwise ridiculously warm winter we’ve been having in France, beyond that in Europe, beyond that in the world. Case in point: it felt like the end of the world even though it was +3°C. Windshield factor not, that was definitely the end of the world, no matter your definition of said scenario: we used to have -5/6°C winter days easy over here, and I used to live in Moscow where -25°C was a good day. Keeping things in perspective.

For baby girl, though, who’s a spry 22 months old and therefore going through her second winter ever (I know how to count), this did feel like a b*tch. I mean, how can you honestly expect a kid to go have fun on a swing when their hands are freezing? You might reply — put gloves on those hands, but that’s missing the point that kids don’t like being told what to do. And our daughter particularly doesn’t like mittens (we didn’t even try actual gloves): fights us away when we try and do it, then takes them off as soon as we free her. Then starts crying because her hands are cold. Toddler logic.

Today, after having spent as much time as we could at our regular Sunday Thai place for brunch (indoors), than at our nearly as regular Sunday coffeeshop spot for, well, coffee (also indoors), we figured we’d have to try and free the monster in the wild, i.e. the playground with slides and swings. Otherwise she’d never go to bed when she should. And we have Netflix shows to watch over here. And so we took her out of the stroller and put her straight on a swing — after having asked, because that could also trigger crying: some days, she prefers starting with the slide.

30 seconds later, she was indeed crying — because her hands were cold, of course. And so we stopped the swing and tried and put her mittens on. Surprise: she… let… us. That’s how cold it felt to baby girl. And that’s how we got away with a good 40 minutes spent in the playground. That and the Chinese new year dance that was happening in one corner of the park: call it cultural appropriation if you will, but our daughter did her very best to learn the moves…