Yesterday, Noah woke up and crawled into bed with me. For some reason it was particularly cold in our house, so we snuggled under the blankets and watched cartoons for the better part of two hours. When our hunger finally got the best of us, Noah latched on for a Tiggity Back and we headed downstairs toward the kitchen.
On our way down, we both gasped with delight as we noticed a fresh blanket of white powder outside. I don’t generally watch the weather forecast, so I had no idea a winter storm had been headed our way the night before. A few weeks earlier, we had purchased an entire new snow outfit for Noah, and we’d both been waiting anxiously for the day when we could bundle up and head outside for snowmen building and snowball fights.
We raced through breakfast, bolted upstairs to suit up, I grabbed my camera, then we waddled our way into the garage. All the way out, Noah made sure that I knew exactly how the snowball fight would go down. “First, I’m going to get a big snowball and throw it at you. Then you’re going to get a little snowball and throw it at me. Then I’m going to get a big snowball and throw it at you.” And then what do you want to do? I asked him. “Then we’re going to build a snowman.” I told him that sounded like a great plan, and we headed into the snow.
Noah immediately dropped to his knees to pack his first snowball.
But, unfortunately, that same snow that makes Utah so famous for its skiing… you know, that perfect fluffy powder… sometimes doesn’t pack too well. And yesterday it wouldn’t pack at all. At least not when being packed together with little teeny hands. Noah was determined though, and in his efforts to make that giant snowball, the only snow that ended up getting packed was packed inside of his coat sleeves (Dad bought him mittens that ended up being much too small for him). Needless to say, he wasn’t a happy little Eskimo.
We headed back inside, so that Noah could warm his hands, and I asked him if he was done or if he wanted to go back out. He declared that he still had that big snowball to throw, so we put his little mittens back on and headed out for more torture. He managed to scoop up a clump of snow, and turned toward me with an expression of triumph. “Don’t throw that at me yet. Wait until I don’t have my camera out,” I instructed him.
He laughed and wound up for the pitch. “I’m serious Noah, let me take a good picture, and after I put away my camera you can throw the snowball at me. The problem is, that snow could ruin my camera.”
“Noah, are you listening to daddy?” More giggles. He turned away as if to comply. I began messing with my camera settings and didn’t notice him peeking over his shoulder at me when I took this test shot.
He got me. The little turkey.
As I blotted and blew the chunks of snow off of my 24-105 L-Series lens (for those of you who speak Canon), I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Did I really just expect a three-year-old to have that kind of self control? My equipment got what it deserved. And in all fairness, Noah had told me his exact plan before we ever went outside.
We never did get to make that snowman, either. The entire rest of the morning Noah kept repeating the same two things. “I got you with a big snowball Dad, and you never even got me,” along with “Dad, we need to wait until the snow is more wet before we can make a snowman, huh.”
All in all, I love Snowy Sundays.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
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How about you? Do you like winter? If you live where it snows, do you enjoy it? What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s cold outside?