The punk and I took a misguided trip to the park this morning on the way home from the doctor's office. Granted, it isn't shiny and warm, but I figured if we came prepared with jackets (and pretzels), we would be able to kill an hour. As soon as we arrived on the playground, I discovered that the slides ended in pools of ice water. I guess 38 degrees isn't going to cut it. So we meandered back to the car with the promise of being able to play in the backyard.
On the way to the parking lot, the punk made a fascinating discovery: "Oooooooooh! Wooooooorrrrrms!" There were millions of them and he anxiously examined each one, being careful not to step on any of them. (I didn't bother to tell him they were already dead.)