Snow. Snow. Snow. More snow. Snow again. Snowsnowsnow. Snoooooooooow.

Yesterday was a snowy day (but not a Snow Day, at least not for me), and per the morning news this morning I saw that we’re already 3 inches ahead of where we were last year – when we had the 2nd snowiest winter in recorded history. It makes me wonder why we didn’t buy a condo instead of a house.

 

Anyway, I was out shoveling for a couple hours last night, and his mom brought Peter out so the whole family could clear the driveway. It was an awful mess, thanks to the hours of sleet and freezing rain that fell before the snow. There was at least an inch of hard, compacted slush below the wet snow. Each full shovel felt like it weighed about 10 pounds. Peter was wise enough to dump his little shovel and just pick up a chunk of ice here and there and toss it onto the mounds of moved snow. Last week when we had him out in the snow he removed his mittens within a minute of them being put on, or put on again. Last night he figured out that mittens on his hands make his fingers not get cold, and they work better when the thumb is up in its little slot. So he was able to stay out longer and play more than last time. He did fine for 20-30 minutes and then he took a header face-first into the snow when he stepped off the driveway onto the neighbors’ lawn. He didn’t cry or anything, but he got a face full of snow and his mittens and boots were pretty much covered, also. At this point I took him back inside and got him out of the wet snowsuit.

 

At that point I was ready for dinner that Peter’s mom had prepared while I did my Sisyphean shoveling. I offered some to Peter, but he shook his head emphatically while pointing at the round tin on the table. I asked him “Do you want a cookie?” and he lit up and started nodding just as emphatically as he had been shaking it 10 seconds before. So I gave him a bit of a cookie, and when that was gone tried to give him some more of the casserole. Shake shake shake! Cookie? Nod nod nod! When Peter’s mom came in she asked me if he ate, and I told her that he didn’t want the casserole, but he did want the cookie. She then apologized and said it was her fault (score!) because she had given him one before taking him out to shovel. For a second I was worried that I was the one who had corrupted him. Sweet.