Winter is my least favorite season. I’d prefer my snow shovel remain in its space in the garage all year long. With my lack of coordination, I fall easily for ice-covered sidewalks. And, last but not least, I am cold-natured and thus incompatible with Ol’Man Winter. At least, I moved further south a few years ago and live in Texas where the Ol’Man isn’t as eager to unpack his suitcase as let’s say Alaska.
During a week where I was subbing for a physical education aide in an elementary school, we went outside after a long stretch of being inside thanks to Ol’Man Winter. Even though it was warmer, I wore my jacket because it had been windy. As I was walking out with the students, one boy said to me, “Why are you wearing a jacket? I certainly don’t need one.”
Before I could answer, another boy jumped in and responded with, “Because she’s old.”
Thanks a lot, kid.
I didn’t bother defending myself. I doubt he would have taken my word for it that age had nothing to do with it. I was cold natured long before I got my first gray hair or shadows under my eyes. I hope the lad gains some “tact” before he gets old himself.