All that wonderful snow! It really was great to have a white Christmas.
Before the holiday, my son kept reminding me that it snows at Christmas, right?
And I kept telling him, “Well, if you live in certain parts of the world it does, like in Alaska where Daddy grew up it snows on Christmas.”
(Except for the first Christmas I spent up there, but I left that part off). I was skeptical that it EVER snowed on Christmas here and didn’t want to give him false hope.
Never miss a local story.
Our wish came true and it did snow!
Then came the fun part -- bundling the kids up and sending them outside.
That part didn’t work so well.
“I am cold!”
“It’s freezing out here Mommy!”
“COLD,” said my 2-year old.
Wusses. Where is their sense of snow adventure? Where were the snow angels? Why could I only shovel 10 feet before I had a sniveling child whining at my feet to go in?
Apparently enjoying playing in the snow may not be in the genes -- they showed no evidence of belonging to me or my Alaskan husband.
Sledding, however, may have redeemed my son. He and my husband hit the Carmichael hill in Richland twice last weekend before the big melt and had a blast.