Thanks a lot, Danny Kaye

Don't get me wrong.  I love snow.  I particularly love it at Christmas.  Who doesn't love a White Christmas?  I'd even go so far as to say the movie White Christmas makes my top ten list of all time favorite movies.  But a foot of the stuff?  The weekend before Christmas?  I'm feeling more than a little Bah Humbug about it.  Mainly because the image in my mind of what a White Christmas means--cups of cocoa with mini marshmallows, a snow man, sledding down hills with your scarf blowing in the breeze, plates of  Christmas cookies fresh from the oven--is vastly different than reality--twisting my knee in the snow, a toddler so excited he simply runs in circles and screams the word snow,  a pile of dirty snow at the end of your driveway from the snowplows, and the copious amounts of laundry that snow playing creates.

I'm not a total scrooge.  It is just that it is so much work for so little reward.  It takes us roughly 30 minutes to get suited up.  And this is not an easy endeavor.  Henry does not want to wait to put on extra clothes and his coat.  He wants to go in the snow.  Now!!!

 And once we're outside, let's talk about the  frustration of being 2 and wearing so many clothes you can barely move.   It doesn't help to start chanting, "Mommy, I stuck" or "Daddy, I fall.  Fall down.  Help!" if your parents are laughing at you.  Seriously.  We laughed at him, because he couldn't bend at the waist to prop himself up.   No matter, he still wanted to simply roll around in the snow.  I thought about teaching him how to make snow angels, but not owning snow bibs myself, I simply was too lazy to get down in the snow and do it.  Yeah, I know.  I'm a sucky mom.  But that there snow is cold.  And wet.  I'm also completely helpless as to how I'm supposed to build a snowman.  I think maybe the snow isn't wet enough.  Is this a possibility?  And I've got an unattended baby inside in her swing... 

Yeah!  This year we've got an actaul sled, so Dad's not just pulling me around in a bucket.

Of course, the bucket is a little more secure.

Um, Dad, a little help here.  I've fallen and I can't get up.

Eventually, we did head inside for cookie making.  I was imagining Henry really being into this.  He loves to play with playdough.  We would sing Christmas Carols, decorate cookies, and sneak bites of raw cookie dough.  Nope. When I attempted singing, he told me to be quiet.  When I tried to get him to eat a piece of cookie dough, he promptly spit it out and said, "Out of mouth."  (Which tells me that he has been listening.  Sometimes...)  I did get him to punch out a couple of cookies.  But mostly, he just looked out the back of the house, screaming that he wanted to go outside again.

We did eventually head outside again, this time with Gracie in tow. (Much to Sloan's protesting.)  I'm not sure there is anything cuter than this picture.  I love the expression on her face and the dab of formula at the corner of her mouth.  In truth, I kind of think she looks like a tanner version of her cousin Natalie in this photo.

  Henry wanted in on the action.

But only for about three seconds.

Dang it, Mom.  I keep falling.  Gracie, a little help.  Grace?  Grace?  Mommy, why are you holding your crotch while you laugh?