Don't you eat that yellow snow

The dreams of thousands of children in our area came true today. School got out early in anticipation of bad weather and, thankfully, the weather arrived just about when they said it would...and when we arrived home. The kids went bonkers. At first, I wasn't sure if the excitement came from their early dismissal or the arrival of frozen white stuff falling from the sky. Either one would be a source of excitement for me, but I'm weird like that. After a fairly busy week, the trio needed a little bit of time to decompress and let a decent layer of snow fall before they got bibbed up and headed outside. That gave me time to locate the snow bibs and find hats and gloves and fifty seven layers of clothes. I know our Wisconsin relatives are having a little giggle at the drama over 2-3 inches of snow with bitter temperatures of 30. This area is considered a lightweight contender in the tolerating snow fight. Growing up in snowier areas with snow loving parents, we enjoyed the snowfall as much as possible without getting frostbite and I am usually more excited about the weather than the children. After an hour allowing for sloth and additional snow to fall, we bibbed up and went out to frolick and pummel each other with snowballs. They tasted the product before Cosby had a chance to leave her mark:



A side story of how messed up I am. My childhood friend, Melissa, and I would spend hours out in the snow together. We went sledding, built snowmen and igloos and tortured her brother, H, who is now a high powered lawyer and could probably come after us with some sort of pain and suffering suit. We weren't that mean. Just little scamps. For the record, I did not watch "Caddyshack" until I was in college, so I was not intentionally ripping them off. Melissa and I strategically placed melted Tootsie rolls(not Baby Ruths) and poured Moutain Dew all over her grandmother's front lawn. When her brother arrived, we took turns randomly walking around scooping up the different piles and eating them. Her brother, wide eyed and shocked, kept telling on us to their grandmother. There may have even been some gagging involved. I have yet to tell the children I did that. They are not quite observant enough to remember where the imposter poop would be if they tried it. That might result in years of therapy and multiple food issues. I took a few sledding pictures and then went inside to save my phone from a waterlogged death, only to find the dog had barfed the puddle of all puddles. Maybe it didn't help that she ate every snowball thrown in her direction. Lesson learned. The kids thawed out, got showers and headed to get warm underneath a blanket before dinner. Dessert consisted of bowls of snow ice cream:


Never fear. I set bowls out on the patio table and caught clean snow. Happy mouths and frozen brains all around. Just a glow of warmth from a happy house on a chilly night. Pure joy.
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