Ice Princess

I'm passing on the name (several years ago given to me by a teenage boy who found my demeanor a little frosty) to my sweet Sofia, who is anything but cold. It's been difficult to keep her inside lately and when the kitchen door is opened, however briefly, there she is-- a blur across the floor trying to make a break for it.

While I like the brisk air, the flush it brings to my face and the hot cocoa that comes after stomping through the snowy woods, I still don't consider myself a big fan of winter. Ernesto's not either. Neither is David. We meant to move further South, but it wasn't in the cards. La princesa Sofia on the other hand could spend all day out in this weather, despite the descending mercury. I guess she figured putting on her coat and hat while still in her footed jammies wasn't enough of a hint to her clueless mother, so she worked hard at voicing her request, crying "OUTSIGH!!!" and dramatically slapping her small, white hands against the window panes. She doesn't understand "Too cold for mommy" yet, so when it gets above 20 I bring the two of them out and pull them on the sled-- we scream down the hills, I pant back up them while David hollers "Faster, Mommy!!" Don't they know I'm old? No, they don't. I'm still able to fake it.

However much I bundle him, David eventually gets his hand or face or some exposed part covered in snow and decides he can't handle it anymore, yelping like some crazy, little poodle, so I tell Sofia we have to go inside. Each time it's the same. I pick her up and she says, "no, no, noooooooo..." She goes limp in my arms and I put her down on the icy driveway. She turns and runs up it, slipping the whole way, but never falling. I chase her, bring her back. Repeat above steps at least three times until I begin with the bribery. She doesn't even fall for that. She's way too smart. Eventually I have to carry her in, holding her like a very large baby and she kicks her legs and cries and when I put her down inside she's all happy again, like it never happened. She chases the cat into the living room and she's glad to be where it's warm. Or at least she tolerates it until the next time we head out, which won't be long.

A princess can only thaw out so much.