Not really sure how to teach her this...

So it's summer.

Okay, technically, it's still spring.

And I'm sure if you live up north...

(which would make you a Yankee, by the way)

(needed to clarify that)

...then it might not be hot as blue blazes yet. Or maybe it never gets hot as blue blazes. Maybe you max out at just plain hot. I don't know.

But 'round here, it's getting warm. We're just tap-tap-tappin' on mid-nighties every day.

That means the concrete is also getting warm. Not quite hot enough to fry an egg. That's scheduled to happen in approximately twelve days. Give or take.

But it is hot enough to hurt Pumpkin's little feet.

So after attempting a myriad of distractions all day long to avoid taking her outside for a walk on the hot concrete, I gave in.

Not because I wanted her to hurt but because I was hoping the concrete would help teach her that No, we need to wait until after Daddy comes home to walk outside.

Well. I was wrong.

Oh, we went out. She walked proudly out the front door on to the tiny covered entry (tiny. So.) and then down the step to the walkway.

Where she promptly started crying.

Now, I was out there barefooted as well. I'm not completely heartless. I knew if it were really hot, I would scoop her up and just go to my happy place to deal with the fussing while she stood at the door.

But it wasn't crazy hot. Just a little warm.

However, it was likely warmer than the soft albeit ten year old carpet and the cool boring tile in the kitchen. And I suspect her sweet-soft-only-13-month-old feet are slightly more sensitive than my 34 year old-too-ticklish-to-get-a-pedicure feet.

(Yeah, not kidding about the pedicure. Last one I got was in 2004 for Mrs. JT's wedding. The little lady said in a very thick Asian accent that my feet needed some serious help. Or something like that. I was too busy trying not to kick her in the face because hello! That flippin' tickles!!!)

Now, I thought that the warm concrete would have been enough to deter her.

But again, I was wrong.

I'm detecting a theme here.

We had only been inside 4.6 seconds when she was walking back towards the front door. Upon reaching said door, she began whimpering and patting it in her not so subtle way of telling me what she wants.

So I find myself in a familiar place as a mom.

Completely unsure how to teach her something.

And if the warm concrete can't help me, then I feel like no one and nothing can.

It's time for me to just go to my happy place (which is in a cabana on the beach in Destin with an ice cold DDP and a case of spray on sunscreen) and try some new distractions to keep Pumpkin's feet from burning.