It’s been 7 years since I’ve had any reason to wear a sweater in September. I am overjoyed to see the leaves changing, the pumpkin spice syrups flowing and the mums in full bloom.
Although Grady was born in Colorado and Annie Bea in Boston (two quite chilly climates), their young lives hardly remember what it means to be cold.
This morning it was 55 degrees on the walk to school. Annie’s little nose was Rudolph red. She was so happy.
Annie Bea: Mom, I love how the cold weather smells. It smells like balls.
(pausing here for digestion)
Me: What? What balls are you talking about?
Annie Bea: You know, those apple balls covered in peanut butter?
Me: Candy apples?
Annie Bea: Yeah.
Me: Okay, so it smells like candy apples. Not balls. Just remember that at school today. It smells like candy apples.
Annie Bea: Okay.
Me: No, say it. Say “It smells like candy apples.” I need to hear you say it. Please.