We've had three heavy snowstorms in a span of a week and a half, so we're pretty well buried. The first day it's pretty. Oh look! It's snowing! Oh, it's so clean and sparkly. Look how fast it's coming down!
Then in a couple hours it's black and nasty from the roads. It's piled up everywhere and the piles are taller than most children. It's all over your car, it's staining your pantlegs, and it's buried in your carpet.
I'm tired of muck, tired of coats, tired of hats and scarves and gloves. Tired of being stuck in the house all the time. Tired of needing every lamp in the house to not feel like we're trapped in a dungeon. We need some sun.
The other day we were in the car and Noah said he wanted all the snow to melt, but he didn't want to have a flood. I asked why he wanted the snow to melt, and he said he was ready for it to get warm.
So we listed off all the reasons life is much more fun when it's warm:
We can see the grass.
We can get ice cream.
We can go to the park.
We can play ball.
We can wear shorts.
We can wear t-shirts.
We can go for walks.
We can wear sandals.
We can have a picnic (me).
We can eat outside (Noah. Ha!).
No shirts! (That was all Noah.)
We can ride bikes.
We can see the sun.
Flowers will grow.
We can let the dog outside (neither of Noah's households owns a dog, but okay).
It's only February. It's 18 degrees. The 10-day forecast has nothing over 30. We won't be having picnics or letting the proverbial dog outside for awhile yet. But my long-lost friend The Sun came out this morning!