He climbs into his car seat in feetie pajamas and a Sheriff Woody cowboy hat, all earnest ambition as he explains to me that he has to go to work. Today, his work is inventing a new chimney — without spiders — for Santa to go down. Woody is a good chimney maker, he explains to me. I have no doubt about it whatsoever.

At Starbucks, we have our routine: I get my coffee, and he gets his chocolate cow milk, his words for Horizon Organics milk in the little carton with the cow on the front. As I settle him into his car seat, he grins at me, and as his little hands reach out to grasp his milk, all at once I can see him at two years, at thirteen months, smiling up at me as he nurses, grasping my breast with both hands.

Matt, so delicately poised between babyhood and boyhood, my angel. The thought of you makes me laugh and cry, your amazing clear eyes, your corona of blond hair. My big boy. My baby. Always will be.

Can’t help it — my family takes the prize again this year, topping the list for Thankful today and every day. Ben, thanks for being loving and true every day of your life; your happy upbeat nature makes me smile, and every touch from you is a benediction, a Ben-addiction. Erika, my oldest, you fill me with pride every day at the amazing woman you’ve become. Sam, my big boy, King of the Wedgies: you’re awesome, and nothing gives me greater joy than seeing you emerge with the kindergarten kids every day and saying to myself That’s my boy. Matt, my free spirit, my changeling child: I don’t always understand how your powerful little mind works, but don’t ever change; there is an air of enchantment about you, and I love it. Julia, beloved baby girl: You saved my life, and I will never forget it. Daddy’s girl, Sam’s darling, your constant smile lights up all our lives.

This Thanksgiving holiday, remember to cherish and appreciate the people who are there for you every day — the people who get on your nerves and share your ups and downs and make home a warm and welcome place.

Some time back, I had Sam, then four, and Matt, just turned three, in preschool. I ended up having to take them both out because of supervision issues — the kids weren’t being properly supervised and a couple of bullies were picking on both of my boys. One day I left the boys with Ben, charged in there like a tigress, chewed out the administrator, and marched out. Afterward, Sam asked me rather anxiously what had happened when I went down to the school.

Did you see those boys? he asked.

Yes, I lied.

What did you do to them? he wanted to know. Did you give them a wedgie? To my boys’ mind, the wedgie is the highest form of humiliation.

Sure did, I told him. I had to do it real quick because the teachers were around, but I did it. And guess what?

What? Sam asked, now smiling broadly.

They were wearing Sesame Street underwear, I told him. Little baby underwear. I don’t know, Elmo or Cookie Monster or something.

This made his day. He spent the rest of the afternoon chuckling to himself over the idea of those two big bullies wearing baby underwear. And that was the day I got my reputation.

Anytime someone wrongs them, Sam and Matt shout, We’ll get Mom on it! She’ll kick his butt and give him a wedgie!

So that’s me: champion ass-kicker and wedgie-giver extraordinaire. Not so much, but don’t tell my boys. To them, I’m Supermom.

Let’s hear it for:

• Overcast, chilly weather.
• Chunky sweaters and hoodies.
• Starbucks Christmas Blend.
• The marine layer.
• So Cal autumn at last.

Forecast for Orange County coastal region:

Today: Mostly sunny. Highs 76 to 82 near the coast to 89 to 94 inland. Light winds.

It’s tank top and shorts weather, and I’m trying to feel Thanksgivingy. I have tried drinking all the pumpkin and maple drinks at Starbucks, turning up the AC in my office and wearing chunky sweaters, but nothing changes the fact that when I walk outside, the sun is beating down and it’s 85 degrees. The sun goes down now by 5 p.m., and I may fire up a cauldron of soup in the kitchen, but that won’t change the fact that the doors and windows are wide open and the kids are running around in their underwear.

I am SO over this shit. Want to get sick of endless summer? Try a steady diet of it for 22 years. I would give my left ovary for a week of chilly, rainy weather.