This weekend we had our first real snowfall. Real, meaning, it stuck and judging by the 10-day forecast, it isn't going anywhere anytime soon.
The beginning of any season is so much fun. The outdoor activities are fresh. Sledding?! We haven't been sledding since March! And it's still [kind of] fun to go through the painstaking process of finding all the snowpants, hats, mittens, scarves and boots.
But my favorite part of the beginning of each new season is that each child is a whole year older. They have a whole new excitement about the snow. They have a different level of expertice and indepence. Last year I broke my back trying to get the kids dressed for snow play. This year William does it all on his own without any help. Last year Lucy could barely walk through the backyard with all her gear on. This year she's throwing snowballs with the big boys.
But my favorite part of the beginning of each new season is that each child is a whole year older. They have a whole new excitement about the snow. They have a different level of expertice and indepence. Last year I broke my back trying to get the kids dressed for snow play. This year William does it all on his own without any help. Last year Lucy could barely walk through the backyard with all her gear on. This year she's throwing snowballs with the big boys.
I'm sad I'll be stuck inside with a newborn for most of this winter while the rest of my family rumbles and tumbles outside.
But I also know that next year I'll have a cute little one-year-old snowbunny to pull around on the sled. And it will all be brand new for her.
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