The groundhog saw his shadow, so that means six more weeks of winter. Or did he miss it? I’m never sure which is which, but judging by the storm we received yesterday and the one we’re expecting tomorrow, I’m pretty sure winter is nowhere near over. As long as we’re not into negative temperatures I’m fine with snowy blankets. I’ll take 29 degrees and six inches any day over immediate frostbite.
There are two types of people when it comes to snow, those who hibernate and those who revel in the outdoors. Jonathan usually takes to cozying up on the sofa with a mug of hot chocolate, while I make it my job to pry everyone out from under afghans and into wool jackets before the sun melts my playland. One upside to my partner being away this week is that there was no steaming cocoa to distract me from my mission. No partner to tell me not to plop the baby in the snow because it may be too cold and wet.
Shhhhh… don’t tell.
I handed Rivers a small snowball, just large enough for him to cup in a mitten-capped hand. He plopped the entire ball into his mouth like a giant jaw-breaker, and judging by his grimace, immediately regretted his decision. Not the least deterred he roamed the landscaped walkway and picked up clumps of snow, either by mouth or mitten. He’s a winter baby by birth and by heart. We may have another reveler in the family.