This morning we awoke to find a shimmery white blanket draped gently over the city. It was glorious, especially since snow in our area is something of a novelty.
Aidan approached our bed first thing (bearing a remarkable resemblance to Randy from A Christmas Story). He tried to whisper, but couldn't conceal his excitement: "I'm ready to go play in the snow now, Mommy!"
Randy, not Aidan
Once I had groggily ascertained that they were well equipped with hats and gloves, out went my children, tramping through the yard, eager to make . . . a snow dog. I'm not sure why they choose that animal.
Avery, however, was back in a flash -- nose dripping, cheeks like plump red apples. She had had enough. Once I had her cozily soaking in a warm bath, I smiled at the difference in my girls. Bethie was still out there, experimenting with gymnastics in the snow.
I wrapped the fluffy pink Noni towel around Miss Kate and placed her in front of the fire. Then I checked on Bethie who had managed to roll a huge snowball from the backyard to the front.
My Jo and my Beth: Avery, the little cricket who prefers to stay home near the comforting warmth of the hearth (true, she resides there with rather forceful chirping), and Bethie, the adventuresome girl who craves activity and interaction. One just like her mama, the other just like her daddy.
Although I do hope I've outgrown the forceful chirping phase.