Fog

Friends from the east are often asking me if I’ve seen the famous San Francisco fog roll in off the bay. Other than one jaunt to the Golden Gate Bridge in the fog (described here) the answer was no.

Last week, however, Sammy and I went to a playground up in the El Cerrito hills and I saw the fog descend down the mountain. It was a chilly, gray afternoon, and we had the playground all to ourselves. Sam was in the baby swing, facing the forested hills when she started to point and say “Ha ha ha.”

I was really at a loss. “Hair? Head?” I tried to follow her eyes. “Trees? Hill?” What are you talking about, baby girl? This was frustrating to me.

She insisted: “Ha!” then she signed “hot.”

Hot? Are you kidding? We’ve still got east coast blood, but this weather isn’t anywhere close to warm.

Then I turned and looked again where she pointed. Fog. Drifting down across the evergreens.

“Oh, you think that’s steam! You think the fog is hot!” I exclaimed.

“HA!” Shouted Sam, smiling now.

Teaching Sam the concepts of “hot” and “cold” has been an interesting challenge. I have often let her feel an object’s temperature–usually food– and so she does know experientially what “hot” and “cold” are. And she now seems to understand that “hot” and “cold” can be attributes of objects. She’ll ask for cold water, or sign “hot” if I give her a too-warm piece of food to eat.

But there are some hot things I don’t want her to experience. And so she has to take my word for it. Such as the oven and the stove. Many times she has watched the steam rise from the tea kettle, as it whistles on the stove. I’ve never let her touch the steam, but I’ve told her many times that it is “hot.”

And so quite logically, Sam thought the fog was hot. A big mugful of steam rising from the chilly Northern California woods. I love how a toddler’s mind works.