Mittens on the playground.

It wasn't my idea. I suggested the library. Tall Tales bookstore. Anything or anywhere else.

But no; Sonja insisted we go to Beacon Hill Park, even though I warned her it would be really cold. I think she was convinced by the blue sky and nothing I said had any effect.

It didn't take long before Haven realized that sliding in the cold with boots and mittens on is not quite the same as it is with shorts and sandals. It took a little convincing, but soon she was climbing and sliding all over the playground. We only hit a snag when she took her mittens off and her hands were so cold they turned red. She alternated between yelling about it and demanding I blow my warm breath onto them. Did I mention she's a handful?

In the end, I insisted we cut our visit short; even though they were both having a blast, I was freezing and Haven's hands were like ice. I told Sonja we likely won't do a lot of playing in Beacon Hill Park for awhile, at least until it's warm again. She didn't look like she believed me. 

I get that look a lot.