I woke up with Christmas music on my mind.
The first snowfalls do that to me.
(However, successive snowfalls in, say, April/May have the opposite effect. Idaho, remember?)
Ben dragged out the snow clothes hibernating in the shop. The kids got into them faster than lightning, scattering them all over the place. Scattered happiness. Donning themselves in layers, they chattered about last winter, all smiles. Well, all smiles, until the big boys realized they had no functional boots and their only gloves had holes in each fingertip. My boys are growing up. They each wore a pair of MY boots and MY gloves. Out the door they went.
Annie, however, still needed help. Dad to the rescue (did I mention I love that guy?)! I was practically rolling on the floor listening to Ben's mild expletives (okay, not REAL expletives) as he shoved (hah) Annie's little body into her boots, coat, and gloves. He had a taste of my world. Fortunately, I've had years to develop an immunity to the exhaustion that comes with the never-ending job of dressing little ones in winter clothes over and over and over again. Time for Benny-Boy to get an immunization!
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