Hats are friends

So, the Bakestress used to volunteer at Jelly Tots, a play group for babies that doubles as a social group for mums. She has lots of great stories, but I was reminded of one in particular this morning as I pulled on my trusty hat.

Lil’ Ricky (actual name withheld) is a two-year old burgeoning train enthusiast. The Bakestress sidled up to him one morning and offered her track-building services, and they set to creating an empire. Lil’ Ricky worked with quiet focus alongside his new friend, not bothering to make much conversation. The Bakestress took it upon herself to lighten the mood.

“What do you like to do, Lil’ Ricky?”

“Twains.”

“Me too! Why do you like them?”

“Choo-choo!”

“Totally.”

Silence ensued as they laboured over a complicated S-curve, before she piped up again.

“So, what movies do you like?”

“The Incwedibles, Toy Stowy, Monstews Eek, CAWS! I watch them with Nana. I watch them alla time.”

She’d hit upon a gold mine.

“But Lil’ Ricky, what about my favorite one…Finding Nemo?”

Lil’ Ricky jumped up and pumped a train-track in the air excitedly.

“FISH ARE FWIENDS, NOT FOOD!!!”

I love that story.

So, back to my hat. I pulled it on this morning, unwrapped Barb and zoomed passed the traffic in the morning chill. 15 minutes later I dismounted, flushed and warmed to my core. I yanked off my gloves and hat and thought about all the times I’d suffered over the years in the cold without wearing either, and how foolish I’d been to let vanity steal the (admittedly minor-league) pleasure of a brisk winter breeze setting one’s skin a’tingling. Trudging up the stairs to my office, one thought echoed unbidden in my mind, and suddenly I pumped my hat into the air.

“HATS ARE FWEINDS, NOT FOES!”

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