peevish mama

I became the mother of a boy who went snowboarding wearing nothing but a short sleeved t-shirt under his coat. I used to see these boys in the chalet, with their wind burnt faces and bare arms, slurping giant sodas, ravenously bent over trays of food or guffawing with their buddies. I used to see these boys and wonder about their mothers. Surely, a thermal under that t-shirt wouldn’t have been too much to ask for. A fleece neck warmer perhaps?

I don’t wonder about those mothers anymore. I’m just happy he’ll wear a coat at all. What’s next, snowboarding in a hoody? Over my dead body.

Then again, that’s how I used to feel about neck warmers.