Building a Dead Snowman

Well, I can't claim to be a snow-lover and never go out in it. So Tommy and I bundled up and went out to play.

Don't let my hat fool you - it wans't cold. I simply didn't do my hair today. That's OK. You can't tell. 

I don't really know what you're supposed to do when playing in the snow if it isn't tubing or having a snowball fight which caused a bit of a problem today.

I live in what used to be the bottom of a lake. No hills for tubing. 

It's mean for a grownup to snowball fight with a baby. No snowball fight. 

So I decided "we'd" build a snowman. Only Tommy wasn't helpful at all. He just sat around watching me do all the work. Typical.

And when I realized that I could roll a ball bigger than I could lift, I decided a dead snowman was more appropriate for March anyway.

Tommy was thrilled with the whole experience.

But when I let him poke the snowman in the eye, he really was happy. What a strange little boy I have.

Eventually I tore him away and we did some snow-sliding. 

Oddly enough we were the only ones at the park today.

  

If you had watched Tommy reach up to hold my finger while we both walked snow-pants-ed and straight-legged home, me with a sled carelessly slung over my shoulder, your heart would have melted.

I know because mine did at the mere glimpse of our shadows.