The boys both got new coats for the winter. I got Joey a beautiful blue one with matching snow boots because his old coat was getting small and the lining had disappeared (and rather unusually, has yet to turn up). Andy's new coat appeared after Christmas, because his old coat, which had been Joey's old coat and going strong for 4 years and through two boys, finally gave up the ghost (washing it had no effect on the filthy look, all the velcro had been pulled off, and Andy's wrists stuck out of the sleeves). Grandma found him a lovely red one, one of those fluffy down ones. Very warm, and it would crush better to make getting him in his car seat easier.
All was well until Andy decided he didn't like coats. Specifically, he realized it was easier to get into his car seat without one, and when you aren't wearing a coat in a car seat, your back doesn't get sweaty. Also, I think the weight difference was a factor- his old coat, being one of those lovely 4-in-one coat systems (I'm not being facetious. I love those 3-in-one and 4-in-ones: buy one coat, wear it the whole year round, just wear the parts you need! Totally, totally, awesome) had some weight and thickness to it that his new coat lacks. He's happy to wear it as an actual buffer against cold, but he's figured out that the car, once warmed, is, well, warm.
And now that's been generalized. The minute he hops into the car, he's stripping off his jacket. The temperature makes no difference; even if it is freezing, he knows that in about ten minutes, the car will be warm. The fact that he'll catch his death in those ten minutes without a coat is of no interest to him in the slightest. This from the child who, up until three short months ago, insisted on having any jacket with a hood worn with the hood upon his head. Even indoors.
It also makes no difference which jacket he is now wearing. It was warmer than usual the past two days, so I pulled out the sweatshirts. I thought the weight might also encourage him to keep it on. No dice. Open door, hop in, remove jacket. It's a ritual now, ingrained into his the pathways and set on automatic. Open, hop, remove.
The teachers at his school, who have to put him in my car and strap him into his seat, find this very odd. They are busy trying to get him wrestled into the seat quickly, and he's trying to remove his jacket, which he wore for all of a half-dozen steps between the door and my car. She actually chuckled this morning, "Poor guy. If they come with a jacket, we have them wear them home; even if its just for ten seconds!" I was glad for the implication that my child isn't the only one to hit the car and strip.