It's quite cold.
When I got up this morning it was cold. Very cold. I watched the weather and it said we were at -5 Fahrenheit. That would be -21 Celsius. My thermometer said it was -18 Fahreheit. That is -28 Celsius. I don't count in wind chill like weather forecasters do. They say things like, "it's -6, but with the wind chill it's actually -18." They don't say that in Summer. They don't say the wind makes it 4 degrees cooler so we'll pretend it's that. But needless to say, -28 Celsius with wind chucked in is fricking freezing cold. So after capitulating to my daughter's early requests to go outside and see if the snow is ready to make a snowman I gave a speech about wearing neck warmers and special helmet-fur shaped things to stay warm in the wind chill. So she then reversed her mood and said she didn't want to go out. She actually whimpered. She did go out but moaned so much in the first few moments I nearly gave in - but it takes so much effort to get them suited up I made them stay out for at least 15 minutes. But my word did she not want to be out there. Why? In case her fingers die and the doctor pulls them off because they are black. That would be frostbite she's talking about. Actually she's more considered about this one - she's petrified that her brother's gloves will fall off and he'll be too far away from her to warn me they came off. "And then he will have no hands anymore." I talked to her about it and said it'd be fine but we need to just wear the right stuff. My son just lay on the ground and wriggled. After the chat she refused to eat an icicle (proof if ever there needed to be that something is very wrong) because if she uncovered her face it might die.
So we came back in. I had to stay out for five more minutes to fashion a shelter for my cat when it goes out. It is an outdoor/indoor cat so needs to go out for a whizz. Believe me it does. And it's fine. But it doesn't go out and pee - it goes and sits somewhere warmer than the naked air for an hour and then pees. So I put the kids play house back to front by the basement window (where hear evidently slowly leaks because it's not glass - it's a plank of wood) that she sits by for twenty minutes after she's kicked out. Then I put cardboard down and an old plastic sled on that with a blanket on it. So if she wants to lie on it she'll be plenty warm with a blanket, wind shield and her fur. Then she can snuggle in there - go pee - and then come back in. My daughter watched me out the window fighting with the play house (literally yelling at it and threatening it with violence) until I took my gloves off for a minute to try and wiggle the damn roof back into place. I glanced up at my daughter and son in the side window right above me to smile that I was outside and nearly done. My son giggled. My daughter was panicking. Because I'd taken my gloves off. I put them back on and came inside.
At which point she about crapped her pants because there's a slight crack in the back door where the cat grabbed the insulation felt/rubber strip around the door edge. She became vaguely hysterical and then piled coats and a garbage can in front of it. As if we were defending our house as the last outpost from the impending attack of the zombie hoards. Since then we've eaten, changed clothes and started a failed dance-off. Because she's still emotionally invested in the thought that our fingers might fall off and die.
The zombie thing is a direct link too. She had a play date with a friend from school on Monday. While she was telling me what they got up to (she watched him demonstrate his toys but was not actually allowed to play with them herself - an empowerment tool the kid uses to keep his toys away from his three older siblings) she mentioned they watched a little television. Curious what they watched she said, "Oh his favorite movie. It's about zombies." The kid is four. There are no cutesy kid zombie movies. Mind you if there was one on PBS the zombie would try to eat a kids brain but then realize that he should invest a lot more of his energy into recycling and coloring in rainbows. I asked if she liked the show and she no. Which is silly because that doesn't mean anything (the question or the answer). I don't neccesarily think there's a massive amount of difference between Sid The Science Kid, Wild Kratts and World Girl (which she watches) and some other shows. I can completely see why a kid would want to watch Spongebob and Adventures Of Jimmy Neutron. But a movie about zombies? Good Lord I hope it wasn't 28 Days Later.
So after talking to her about appropriate TV (possibly one of the most over-the-head talks I've had with her - and that includes talking about my religious beliefs and trying to explain Schrodinger's Cat to her) I decided to tell her some shows I used to watch. Which was hard because I can't remember much. The first thing that entered my brain was a show I didn't watch. It was Bodger and Badger. She liked the idea of a Badger that had an unusual fetish for mashed potato a bit too much. So I moved on quickly to Button Moon. Which I also didn't watch so after explaining a spoon went to the Moon I was out of detail. So I broke into a monologue about Bananaman. She liked that a lot. Then she started interjecting about shows she watched when she was a kid (yes - I am aware that's mental). She told me about a superhero who was actually an apple. And a show about snowball that got, "bigger than the bookshelf" and then exploded. Fair enough. Then my daughter said, "oh I used to watch one called Pigs That Eat People."
She might be better off with 28 Days Later actually.