Monday, January 9, 2012

What Happened to Winter?

I'm one of those crazy people that believes if it's going to be wintertime, then by golly, there'd better be some snow on the ground. Now, now-- you haters can quit cursing me. I'm sorry. I can't help it. I just love it--a hazy gray sky, a blanket of glistening white, flurries floating softly through the air. It's true. This girl loves a good snow.

It's one of my favorite things about living in the midwest, getting to experience every bit of four seasons. Canon balls in the Summer, underdogs in the Spring, pumpkin picking in the Fall, snow angels come Winter. I've got a soft spot for every season that rolls around & I honestly don't think I could ever give up even one of them.

But unfortunately for me, we've yet to see what I like to call a good snow around these parts. And I'll admit, every time I turn on Fox 4 News to the Long Ranger & see 50's & 60's in the forecast, I bum out a little. I watch our window of Wintertime slowly closing in & I fret that this year my little boy may not zip around on a little green sled, pack a snowball, sprawl out & do a snow angel, or come in from the cold with a cherry red nose. Boo hoo.

But Meatball?

He's got absolutely no clue what he's missing out on.

He'll take a 62 degree January day & run like the wind with it.

And when I say run like the wind, I mean it literally. Once this kid feels the outside air in his lungs, his feet blaze against the ground & they don't slow for a second. And man, is this kid fast. {I think he may just have some Daddyboy genes in those legs of his}. While I try my best to encourage him to stay in the grass while practicing his Buzz Lightyear blastoff skills, lo & behold, I find myself holding my breath as he goes zooming across the cement driveway time & time again. He falls, he skids, he wipes off his scratched up hands & banged up knees & gets back up & goes at it again. I shudder, I imagine broken arms, knocked out teeth, emergency room visits & ruined clothing. *Sigh* Boys will be boys.

When those little egg beater legs aren't pelting all over creation, you'll find our Meatball in the next door neighbors yard, stomping in the dirt & smashing down the mole hills. My husband is about to go into a tizzy over all those mole hills. He's dreading the day when that pesky little rodent pops through the soil on our side of the property line.  But Jett, he seems to have no problem with that mole & the trail of dirt he leaves behind.

Daddy should be less worried about what a little mole is going to do to his lawn & pay a tad more attention to the destruction that this Power Wheels toy & the crazy driver behind the wheel have the potential of creating.

He hasn't quite got the art of driving mastered just yet. He stomps the gas, but has no idea that he needs to steer as well. This usually ends up with me chasing beside him, cranking the wheel, trying to keep up & not get run over at the same time. I'm sure the neighbors get a real kick out of the pregnant chick who is squealing & hobbling alongside an almost two year old & his motorized vehicle. Fun times for all.

 Of course Monkey comes along for the ride. We strap him in safely. Wouldn't want the poor little guy to get barreled over like Momma's feet do. It hurts.

As much as I get a jolt of excitement from waking up to the beauty of a fresh fallen snow & the endless possibilities of fun that a blizzard packed snow front brings to our doorstep, there's absolutely no denying that these past few days of nice weather have been nothing short of glorious. 

You won't find me inside pouting when there's sixty degree weather outside our door & a speed demon begging at the glass to go out & play in it.

But you also aren't going to find me bidding snow, slush, & ice good-bye just yet, either.

I have a feeling Old Man Winter may have a few tricks up his sleeve yet.

Here's to hoping, anyhoo.

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