As is usually the case in Charlottesville, the weather decided to completely skip the spring part of spring, and so we’re into the land of 80+ degree weather and it’s not even May.  Normally I wouldn’t mind – I am the sort of freak who (when not pregnant or breastfeeding) practices yoga in a 110 degree room willingly, heck, enthusiastically, which is to say that I’m of the bring it on mentality when it comes to heat.  But I don’t know how I feel about the heat and a six month old.

Unfortunately, the small one’s room gets baked in afternoon sun, which meant that this weekend it reached 90 degrees by his crib.  I’m not so worried about this for the summer proper, as we’ll turn on the central air sometime in June, but in the meanwhile, when it is so nice to sleep with the windows open (and that 50 degree weather usually makes at least two more appearances before summer officially overtakes Virginia), it feels like such a waste to shut all the windows and live like an office park. 

And so, the small one spent his afternoon naps downstairs where it was a bit cooler, garbbed only in his diaper.  And he slept in his crib, despite his room still hovering at the 85 degree mark, in only a teeshirt and diaper.

My husband heard him fussing slightly this morning, probably because the room finally cooled off to a lovely 72 degrees but for the fact that the child was pantsless and without blanket, and he brought the small one to the bed in the nursery, covered him with a light blanket and slept with him until I came in to feed a 7.  Did I mention what an amazing dad my husband is?


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