It was chilly today

I cuddled under a blanket with Reuben. Right before he goes to sleep he likes to cuddle. He calls it "being a baby" and asks for a "baby bye." He goh-goh and gah-gahs, and touches my cheek. This may be why it is getting easier and easier to ignore that I-kinda-wish-we-had-a-baby-on-the-way feeling. He lets me squeeze and rock and sing to him, and he just looks at me with those Minnesota-sky-on-a-crisp-winter-morning eyes of his. And as long as I don't have another baby in the room to compare him to, it is almost like he was born a few months ago (that awkward "all the dark hair fell out" time).

We spent the cool breezy morning at the park. Reuben resisted the pull of the sprinklers for a good hour, but his yearning for the water overcame him and he gave in. I thought of his genes, and what makes the coolness of the weather an inconsequential when frolicking in the water is an option. He didn't turn blue, but he did shiver a bit. And I remembered that the best days to go to the beach were the cold days. And that the biggest lake superior waves we ever swam in were courtesy of a very cold day, and the water was warm and delightful. And the day we went to the ocean in Oregon was cold and raining, but we had to get out because it was water and it was our chance.

And my worst memory of water is when it was hot and we walked miles into the "great" salt lake in an inch of water and two inches of black slug surrounded by a million flies. I have a feeling that if it were raining we would have found some water, and those flies wouldn't have been so numerous, and the air probably wouldn't have smelled so bad.