Winter, Again

Leo and I had set off to look at a house which turned out too cramped to consider buying, and by the time we come back out the sidewalks are slippery with snow. By the time we are back home 15 mintes later walking is quite a feat, and going to pick Tara up from nursery just an hour later is, well, difficult. But nice - crunch crunch crunch. I can't wait to get my girl home to play in the snow with - my excuse,as if I need one - but Tara's a bit tired, having already made a snow reindeer with her friends and thrown plenty snowballs at the "grown-ups" but a single snowball against her window is enough to tempt her out again to play with her silly old mother. ("Silly"... "old"... ha ha ha!)
I turn my back this way, and she scrambles onto her trampoline to bounce in the snow. I turn my back that way, and she's put so many footmarks into the garden there's hardly any room left to teach her snow angels, but we just about squeeze two in: one - if I may say so myself - rather elegant, tall and slim mummy angel, flap flap, and one charming, small, pudgey smudgey baby angel.

Flip flap flop

Podgey stodgey baby angel

Cold snowbaby Tara retires into the warmth of the kitchen, and I finish my little project, The Abominable Snowbaby, by myself. Dedicated to Leo, who is sound asleep on his father's shoulder or some other warm irregular place.

The Abominable Snowbaby

The Abominable Snowbaby suffers a bit over night, spits out his dummy, possibly in an attempt to mature and grow over night, but to no avail: By the time Leo and Snowbaby meet, he's slumping and on his way to meet the angels. Accordingly, Leo spectacularly fails to be impressed.
He pats down the snow - cold - then looks away in a tired 3-month-old way. I should have given it boobs, maybe.

Snowman? Been there, done it... give me something more exciting, mother!