Further sartorial comment, or Not your everyday conversational opening at the office water cooler

"I peed in my pantyhose."

Edith was wearing the leg warmers that her buddy Sam gave her for her birthday. She didn't immediately recall them from the last time she wore them two or three months ago and was intrigued. "These are woolen stockings?" she asked. I told her that sure, she could call them her woolen stockings. Which she did, over and and over. She has learned all kinds of new clothing words from The Philharmonic Gets Dressed: cummerbund, bowtie, brassiere. By the time she let loose and flooded her diaper last night, however, the "woolen stockings" had become "pantyhose," another item violinists and cellists evidently wear. Maybe she liked the alliteration.

In case anyone is wondering what Edith was doing wearing leg warmers in August, during the hottest week we've had yet this summer, be it known that she is her mother's daughter. I don't like air conditioning. For one thing, I feel guilty using it, knowing that humanity has survived for years without it and that it is rapidly destroying our environment. But it's easier to be pious when you also dislike the feeling of a/c. It's worst in public buildings, where it always is turned much too low--Why should anyone have to pull out a sweatshirt in August? But even at home where we don't turn it below 80 degrees, I dislike the sealed-off, hermetic existence it requires. I'd much rather keep the doors to the porch open to hear the kids playing and the lawn mowers mowing. Then I wouldn't worry about Edith going in and out to play, forever "killing polar bears," as some friends of ours call undue door-opening to remind themselves to be more vigilant about energy conservation. And I like to go to sleep hearing the crickets, without which I don't feel like I've really experienced a summer. That's one of the things that's so awful about winter, being perpetually shut off from the world outside. Why duplicate that feeling in the other half of the year?

Finally, I appreciate the pace that the heat brings. One has to slow down, move calmly in the summer, appreciate life at a more relaxed pace. Nature enforces that rhythm, and it's a blessing. Why override it? Fall will come soon enough.

Apparently Edith doesn't like a/c either. When she hears the fans go on, she demands, "Turn off the air. I don't like air!" And if it's just the two of us at home, I do. When Tom's home, we negotiate, and sometimes she winds up putting on socks and leg warmers. But I hope to let Edith know when she's old enough to understand that her instincts are good ones, for a variety of reasons.

Meanwhile, she does exhibit empathy for those who are wired differently. On our walk to school today, I commented that it was muggy, then tried to explain what muggy means. "It's when the air is very heavy and hot; it gets thick and feels almost wet. Does that make sense?"

Edith thought for a minute. "Daddy gets muggy inside his shirt?" Yes.