This past weekend was the first significant snowfall of the season -- the prediction was 5 inches, although I'm not clear on whether we got that much. The kids woke up and saw the flakes flying and were super excited. Me, not so much. I've never really cared for snow. Am I the only one who notices that it's cold???
After lunch, I layered them up -- pants below jeans, two pairs of socks, snow pants, big bulky coats, scarves and hats. Edith's old boots were too tight, so those went to Atticus. (Luckily I had a larger pair in reserve for her.) Layer after layer after layer. By the end, they resembled onions more than kids.
I grumbled as I got them ready, but in truth I was ready for them to head out the door. Mostly because I didn't plan to step one foot outside. Paul took them out for two glorious hours while I basked in the silence and finished a book. I didn't even peek outside to see what they were doing (thus, no photos).
My other snow responsibilities? Making the cocoa when they returned inside and a bowl of snow ice cream for both kids the next day. If this is what snow means in the future for this family, maybe I could get used to it.
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