Last Sunday the sky dumped several inches of wet, sticky snow on us. It's the kind of snow from which you can make hard-pack snowballs and armored battle tanks.
When I was six, my friend Travis was plastered in the face with a snowball as dense as a black hole. I think it probably hurt, but Travis didn't say. He was too busy being unconscious. He got stitches across his head and I remember I thought he looked like a baseball.
That's my experience with hard-pack snowballs; I have very little actual familiarity with armored battle tanks.
But I digress.
I took the children outside to play once the snow stopped falling. It was Halen's first time actually interacting with snow, as he refused to wear shoes when we played in our last snowfall. This time, however, he acquiesced to wearing a pair of snow boots. Even so, he seemed leery of the crunchy snow underfoot and preferred observing Savannah madly crawling, leaping, and rolling in any untouched patch of snow she could find.
Eventually he warmed to the white world about him and took to sweeping the snow side to side and playing with snowballs I made for him.
Here, Savannah is actually sliding beneath an Acura SUV and calling frantically for Halen to take her hand to stop her slide. He misinterpreted her, however, and thought she wanted to play "Gimme Five", one of his favorite games. So here he's enthusiastically giving her five as she slides into the dark abyss.
