Baboon Butt Service

My Little Pony has lips like a baboon's butt.

That is not a very flattering image, but I believe in calling a baboon's butt a baboon's butt. It all started on Wednesday. Perhaps I mentioned that some fool at Elementia decreed that the 4th and 5th graders would go outside for recess after lunch. What's the problem, you ask? Oh, no problem, except that the wind chill was 19 freakin' degrees! Uh huh. The policy is that kids stay in unless the temperature is 40 or above. Even the kids know that. On the way to school in spring and fall, The Pony is constantly checking the rear-view mirror temperature display. "Good, it's above 40. We can go out." The actual temperature at the time of disembarking the building was around 30. That still does not qualify as 'above 40'. Just because the sun is shining does not mean that the temperature is kid-friendly. Especially when the wind comes whipping down the plains. OK, so we're not Oklahoma, but it IS our neighbor. The trailer parks and meth labs we put on our plains do not slow that wind down very much.

I know, kids in Minnesota probably play outside at 20 below in just their shirtsleeves, like hearty Viking linemen. But Missouri is not Minnesota. Our kids are puny, spindly, thin-skinned quarterbacks. Hot-house flowers, if you will. They complain if the air conditioning is set at 71. "I'm so COOOLD!"

Since The Pony got off the bus Wednesday, I have been stewing over this expedition onto the frozen steppe of Outer Playgroundia. The wind was out of the north, people. It was the first reaching tendril of an arctic cold front, the one which brought us our 0 degree temperature on Thursday morning, and our -1 today.

The Pony still has a red cheek from windburn. He said his hood kept blowing off his head. Let's remember that The Pony has a tough Carhartt insulated jacket with a hood that has elastic-y stuff to keep it on his head. He also had gloves in his pocket, which I doubt that he wore, although no fingers have turned black and dropped off yet. Think of the kids without warm coats. We have kids at Newmentia who wore shorts to school yesterday and today, the coldest days on record for the past 10 years. Newmentia kids are old enough to know better. Think of those Elementia youngsters, wearing what their mamas hadn't laid out for them. (Several years ago I had a kid who had to get her little brothers dressed and on the bus. They missed the bus because the 8-year-old put on the 6-year-old's pants, and said, "I can't pull them up." She had to pry those pants off him and sort out their clothes. Because little kids don't know any better.) I feel their pain. If they still have any feeling left.

The worst part is The Pony's lips. They are HUGE. He looks like he's had the collagen. They are so puffy that you could stick him to a window and he wouldn't slide off. He's a walking, talking suction cup. I gave him ChapStick yesterday and told him to put it on every thirty minutes. I hope he doesn't overdose. Don't call 1-800-BAD MOM. I meant well.

The Pony's side of the story is: "My lips really hurt. It started when we went out for recess. The only thing that makes them feel better is to lick them and breathe air on them." Indeed. It has been three days now, and his lips still look like a baboon butt. The Pony darts his tongue over his lips every 10 seconds, like a snake testing the breeze.

I threatened to coat them with Vaseline overnight.