When I was five or six I had a distinct thought that I still remember: “It’s hot, and I don’t like being hot. Sweat is gross.” I still remember because I think that thought every summer, all summer long. I knew I would have to adjust that attitude when the baby came. Kids need fresh air, and not just when the weather is perfect.
We’ve gotten off easy this summer, with a long stretch of mid-80s in August that blew everyone’s mind. But last week the temps climbed into the 90s again. And I had an outdoor play date coming up. I won’t lie, I kind of panicked for a bit.
The plan was to go to a splash pad that’s deep inside a botanical garden with a vast blacktop parking lot. There was no getting around the ick factor of sweating the whole time. Also, I have a weird thing where the sun gives me a rash even through SPF 30, so I tend to wear long sleeves to cut down on the itching.
So I was all, “Dammit, I’m going to have to wear sunscreen and long sleeves and people will think I’m a freak for wearing long sleeves, and on top of that, I’m going to be sweating the whole time.” I may have stomped my foot. A few times.
And then I thought, “Baboo’s first splash pad. He’s going to love it. Suck it up, Mama Dean. You’ve been to India. Several times. You grew up in a house without central air. You’ll live, and then you’ll have a nice cool shower afterwards.”
And he did love it. And I survived. And man, that was a great shower.
Ah, the things we do for love.