Monthly Archives: January 2013

We are not scientists in this house. I have a very hazy notion of what an atom or a molecule is, and I haven’t noticed my husband leafing through a copy of New Scientist or playing with a conical flask and a Bunsen burner (apart IMG_2084from when he’s brewing up crystal meth. I’m lying, of course. He brews tea and coffee only. And does one ‘brew’ crystal meth? I’m not sure I’ve got quite the correct terminology there. Again, proof of my unscientific bent). So, should I be surprised that neither of my children can make the link between touching snow repeatedly, and then having miserable, throbbing hands from the cold? Himself the Elf suffers most from this because a) he has least sense in any case and b) he behaves as though gloves are the work of the devil and he must cast them out as soon as they touch his skin. He uses his teeth to slide them off and isn’t happy until they have been flung as far away as possible from him. “Nonononononononono!” he warns me, as I dutifully approach him with mittens each time we left the house. I’ve now given up. The first mitten had already been removed before the second one was donned, and I’d rather just pull the rainhood over the buggy and risk the tsks of people in the street who are clearly thinking “Selfish beast of a woman, her hands are all cosy and encased in wool while that POOR BABY freezes,” then have my hair pulled and eyeball scratched, as was my fate last time I leaned in the buggy to dress him appropriately. Continue reading