Oh, Snow!

He didn't want to wear gloves ...
until he caught a snowball bare-handed.
He changed his tune REALLY quickly.

A few weeks ago, I made the mistake of thinking to myself, "you know: we've really made it through Winter without any major 'episodes.'" I wasn't stupid enough to say it out loud, but I'll admit that I did think it.

That's what thinking will get me.

Between last week and this week, Winter has more than made up for its late arrival. We had an ice "event" last week, and Jeremy woke up around 5:30 this morning and came back to bed, saying, "We've got a couple inches of snow."

Say what?!?

I'll tell you this, Friends: wishful thinking is not nearly enough to keep Old Man Winter on the northern side of the Mason-Dixon. I was too lazy to get up when Jeremy said it, but at 7:30, when the boys and I finally did rouse out of bed, I saw it all ... 2 inches of snow.

Not long after feeding the boys breakfast, Jeremy and I decided that we, as dutiful parents, were bound to take them out in the snow. I then spent no fewer than 45 minutes, trying to distract Jones from the snowsuit suspenders that were making him crazy and trying to fit a size 6-12 month jumpsuit on a baby who's way more comfortable in something 12-18 month (pardon me for assuming it'd snow EARLIER IN THE SEASON).

After fighting with Jones to put on his boots, I finally handed him to Jeremy and said, "YOU get shoes on him. I'll take Freddie outside."

So out we went.

I sat Freddie in the snow - his first time to experience it (it snowed once in November, but we took just Jones out while Brother took his morning nap). He didn't freak out, just touched it and looked a little puzzled by the powder and a little curious as to why he could barely bend at the waist for the tightness in his too-tiny snowsuit (Brooke, it's all AJ's as soon as I get to Nashville next month).

Then Jones and Jeremy came out (we gave up on the boots, by the way. He ended up in his little loafers, which held up GREAT). Jones took a few minutes warming up to it - he just stood on the sidewalk trying to figure it all out - but all in all, he did great. Mostly, he just walked around kicking up the snow, looking for "balls" (snowballs), and laughing when his daddy'd hit him with one. He must've had a good time, because when I asked if he wanted to go in, he said, "No."

From the sounds of Mr. Wallace Weatherman, he'll get another shot at those snowsuit suspenders later this week ... on the same day the green shorts he'll wear on Masters Sunday are scheduled to arrive.

Ironic?

I should say "snow."

"I just can't tell which of his parents
Freddie Pressley looks like,"
said No One Ever.

Handsome, huh?

ready to catch a "ball"

Due to his mama's poor aim,
he caught it with his face
but was all laughs about it.

I was here, too!  Here's proof.