I think today was one of those parenting moments you wish you had Google Glass or something for. It was cold outside, and Maggie was in a foul mood this morning and not particularly interested in going to daycare.
I got her into the car seat without bumping her or pinching her, which she’s been pretty ticked about lately (seriously, a Honda Element is designed to hurt someone at all times.) She was in a foul mood as I had to scrape some ice off of the front window. When I popped my head back in she saw my breath in the air, billowing, and looked surprised.
I showed her how to do it, and she huffed and puffed and looked a bit like she was hyperventilating. She did decent, but didn’t grasp that the idea was to slowly exhale, and not just blow as hard as you could.
We did this for a couple of minutes until I was a bit too cold for the game, and the car still had not warmed up so I believe she was doing it as we drove to school.
She didn’t talk much on the way, I think she was involved in trying to make steam come out of her mouth, and she mentioned that she saw school when we got near, but just once as opposed to the several times she normally does.
When we got out her breath was fully visible again, we played in the cold for another minute until she looked at me like “daddy, I’m cold” and I agreed.
We went inside, the babies were at the boardroom table getting their cereal. Someone had left the teacher a note that ITMama had dropped off some stuff, and they’d thought Maggie was not going to be in today, but she surprised them and was in time for food.
I went back to the car and tried to remember when I first saw my breath and realized I only remember my first memory of it, and that was several years after I must have seen it.