Skipping Town

We got snow two weekends ago. A lot of it. About fourteen inches, in a great white blanket over our yard and driveway, making our property look magical and highlighting all the lovely places where the girls will one day build snow hideouts and forts. Lucia was absolutely thrilled with the snow. We went outside, all four of us, a couple of times on Saturday and Sunday, and she had so much fun shoveling, building a "stump" of snow, climbing in snow piles, eating icicles, making snow angels. It was quite cold all weekend, but she didn't seem to notice and stayed outside with Andrew long after Greta and I retreated inside. Greta, for her part, was not so thrilled. Bundled in her snowsuit, Andrew shoveled out "pens" for her to walk around in--the snow was far too deep for her to navigate--but she would simply stand there forlornly, uninterested in playing. She liked going into the playhouse and looking out the little windows, but this was pretty much it. Next yea...

We got a snowstorm last night, a good three or so inches of snow. Lucia was beyond excited yesterday when the first flakes started falling. She was excited about the snow—but she was also certain that this meant Santa was coming imminently. Ever since Halloween ended, and I explained that Thanksgiving and Christmas were coming up, she’s been exclaiming “Santa is coming!! I want Santa Claus!” at random moments. I’m not sure where she’s picked up this fascination/excitement over Santa. I’ve mentioned Santa to her a few times, but I haven’t made a big deal out of it (it’s only November 8!), so she either remembers last year’s Christmas (unlikely) or is just picking up on the pervasive cultural explosion of Christmas now that the Halloween stuff is gone from windows and stores. Anyway, when she woke up to see the world covered in snow this morning, she squealed and shouted that she wanted to go outside to make snowballs. First, though, she had preschool. I took someone’s helping-mommy...