Today's best factual response to my impassioned plea to wear more clothes in 100 or fewer words:
I'm attempting to clothe the girls. Brooke wears only a dress with the sleeves rolled up. No tights. No socks. Like a human furnace, she cannot tolerate excessive clothing, which is why she strips off her jacket the instant we reach any destination and why the entrance to our house is always littered with her discarded apparel.
Reese wears a sleeveless leotard and leggings. At least put another shirt on top, I reason. It's seven degrees outside.
She looks at me. "Actually, it's twelve degrees."
Ah, a heat wave. Now the lack of sleeves makes much more sense.