Ah yes, the first real, meaningful snow of the season. Like other rites of seasonal passage, like pitchers and catchers reporting, or the first BBQ, or the first day of school, it is something to be cherished – even though the other three don’t cause me to wake up the next morning with a sore back (well, depends what the BBQ is like).
Leanne and I have been waiting with baited breath to take Olive out in the snow for the first time. We love snow. Leanne has a plan to have Olive on skis before she can walk – how else will she make it to the Olympics? We had the snowsuit all ready. The hat. The warm footed pajamas. The camera. All we needed was the snow. Well, New England delivered yesterday with a good foot of the fluffy stuff and so we were able to take her out and let her experience something she will either grow to love or hate over the years.
Like most things parents are excited to introduce to their baby (shopping for a Christmas tree being the most recent), Olive really didn’t care. She cracked a smirk when daddy threw a shovel full up in the air and watched the flakes fly around. But mostly, she was wondering why she was in a snowsuit that was way too big and why mommy and daddy were so excited about this cold white stuff. She sat motionless, almost in protest: “Okay, this is silly, it is cold outside. I’m not going to be your dancing monkey so snap some pictures and get me back inside.” As you can see from the pictures, the youthful joy and enthusiasm is practically bursting out of the little fluffball like fireworks of pure excitement.
And yes, I moved her arms and legs in an attempt to make a snowangel…