When It Snows It Pours... er, Snows Hard

It snowed yesterday. It was the first time this winter. Savannah announced it was snowing when I woke up. "You should go skiing," she suggested. I looked outside. Bare pavement. The tops of the cars were lightly dusted. "Mmmmm… we need more snow to ski, honey."

By late afternoon when we returned from church, the roadways were covered – barely – and all but the tips of the grass were hidden by snow. As I unloaded the minivan Savannah surveyed the scene. "Now you can go skiing, daddy," she declared. The only hill we have here in D.C. is Capitol Hill. It's 15 feet tall. I think they shoot you if you try to ski down it. So instead of skiing, I bundled Savannah and Halen up and let them enjoy the weather while I watched.

Savannah made the most of it, dashing about and making snow angels on the sidewalk. I cringed as she did; she was, literally, making them on the sidewalk. We had like half a centimeter of snow. But whatever.

Halen hated his boots and mittens. He cried until I put him down in the snow, then he cried and clawed at his boots with mittened hands, then he cried and flailed his arms about, attempting to lose the mittens. I finally replaced his boots with his little moccasin-style "shoes", took off his mittens, and let him run. He tripped and cried within three minutes. Everybody won. I got to go inside and have hot chocolate.