Let It Snow

It's Friday before Christmas, the last day of nursery. (I know, I'm behind a little with my blog entries!) A quarter to three in the afternoon, I quickly peel myself and Leo out of bed to run to nursery, to get Tara and to start the holidays. Thirty seconds after I close the front door, it begins to snow. Another thirty seconds later, it is hailing. Christmas holidays, winter and the snow arrive all at once. I'm delighted for thirty seconds, then the hail comes down far too hard (on my naked arms thanks to fashionabley short coat sleeves and absolutely no time to go back home and adjust clothing) to be pleasant - but Tara is delighted for as long as there is the tiniest trace of snow anywhere. Her first snowball is collected out front with daddy, and brought into the house with loving care.

Tara's very first own, self-made snow ball

Mummy says: Tara, what do you want to do with your first snow ball? Put it in the freezer?
Tara says: No, I want to bring it into the house and put it under the Christmas tree.

So be it! learning should not stop with the beginning of term break, and Snowball Number One is granted a short but comfortably warm life under the tree. By the time Tara realises what comfortable warmth does to Snowball Number One, she tries to rescue her dirty little puddle with a quick transfer to the freezer, but looses half on the way. Alas, a lesson in physics learnt, and Snowball Number Two still sits in the freezer, bottom drawer, next to the bread and the ice cream, two weeks later.

The next morning, everything is white, and we are dressed and out in record time. We have snow men to build (however small), lots of snow balls to throw at anything on offer, especially mum at dad, and dad at mum: Jose aims and hits hard with 2 out of three, I aim hard and hit with nil out of however many. Tara laughs her head off. And then? More of the same, of course!

Tara's second snow man

Leo reasonably happy in his pram

Whack the house with snow balls

I invent a snow ball attack game: Place Tara against a (photogenic) wall and hit it with snow balls to have them rain down on her. She's enjoying it, and she's far too young, innocent and lacking in war film education to be reminded of firing squads as I am, ahem, but never mind, it's FUN!




While in town with a camera, I'm taking a few seasonal pictures for the record: Christmas trees on sale at the greengrocer's, the harbour in sunshine, a blurred Christmas tree with blurred 99p shops disguised as seasonal angelic creatures of light, and - oops - a hungry, tearful baby bundle in dire need of an emergency feed in the Christmas section of a shop.

In the box: Our own tree's old friends at £25, £30 and £35

Ramsgate Harbour bathed in winter sunshine

Emergency cuddle! Quick! Emergancy feed! NOW! Here!

Ramsgate Christmas blurr

(Blog should have had more text but guess what: The most beautiful baby boy in town wants a cuddle and a feed. Now.)