What a different a full year makes in a childs attitude toward snow. We had our first snow fall this week, a light fluffy layer that appeared early one morning. The sort that sticks to the branches in inch high stacks. I was not elated. The snow blower is still in the storage shed.
Cora was enraptured though. She woke up grumpy and discontented, sat on the couch until I almost dragged her into the kitchen to look out the french doors. Suddenly the sleepy veneer crumbled as an inner delight hit her eyes and her feet. On tip toes she ran over and began to pull on her slippers.
"No honey." I told her. "You have to wear boots, and snow pants and a jacket to go outside in the snow."
"No Mommy. I fine."
"Either you wear what mommy wants you to, or you don't go outside." I told her.
It took her a minute or two, but she came over and began helping me dress her in a layer of insulation that was thicker than she was. Walking bow legged she got to the french doors. I lifted her up over the thresh hold and put her on the top step of the porch. I watched her take a tentative step, and wondered whether she was going to manage to bend her knees enough to step down the stairs.
She did. A snow angle and a couple of snow balls and such later, she was ready to come inside.