The weatherman had been teasing us for weeks. Snow on Tuesday. Tuesday arrived bright and full of sunshine. Snow on Saturday. Saturday arrived much the same. It's been going on for weeks now. Poor Channing. He was more than a little disappointed each and every time.
Oh to be four and have no idea of the work a good snow entails, to see it as a magical transformation as well as a white fluffy feast.
Channing has a love-hate relationship with his winter outerwear. He wants the warmth. He knows he needs it. He loathes that over-dressed feeling that too many layers creates. He is excited to go outdoors until you start pulling on the snow pants. Then the fit begins. He kicks and yells and fusses his way into layer after layer. No joke, I've literally picked him up by the shoulders of his jacket, hoisted him over the threshold and into the cold.
That cold is like a switch. He's outdoors and the discomfort immediately gives way to the undeniable pleasure of a white, powdery wonderland. He dives headlong into the snow, laying on his belly, lapping up the flakes.
Rolling over, he stretches his little arms and legs, swooshing them back and forth to create snow angel after snow angel. He tramples on them leaving them covered in rugged-soled foot prints as he stands back to admire his look. Each angel is, of course, more perfect than the last. 'How darling!', he exclaims.
Yesterday, he made light work of shoveling the driveway and sidewalk with Papa Walt. Tonka trucks make for excellent snow removal. He used his little blue shovel to fill the bed of the truck time and time again as he helped clear the way. All the while, he kept up a running commentary of his work, 'Backing up! [beep. beep. beep.]' or 'Watch out! Coming through!!'
Maxwell, Kathy & I kept careful watch from the front door choosing to stay indoors where it was warm. The snow removal project happened twice throughout the day as the snow just kept on coming down.