Snow, inside and out

I really need to work on extracting ourselves from my gracious parent's house (P has been kind enough to reeeally make himself at home here) but I thought I'd get out a couple of P pics first.

After the balmy fall we finally had a little snow. First, we had a fake snow storm inside with flour. Bless my mother for embracing this unschooling lifestyle of ours! Phoenix has claimed the center island of her kitchen as his and most projects occur at this central location. This was So much fun that said storm has been repeated numerous times in the past week. ("I really like the feeeel of it mama!") . It all started with an innocent 1/2 cup of flour and true to toddler form (jeez, 3 isn't really a toddler anymore is it?) 1/2 cup is never enough. Or, in P language "No, that not too much." So cup by cup he depleted my entire bag of flour onto the center island. Our old Star Wars craft and his recycling truck then navigated the snowy landscape. He truly tried to keep it on the table, but when his knees, toes and elbows were saturated with the stuff it was inevitable that dustings would make it to the floor. When he saw how cool that looked he forgot all about keeping it on the table and shoved a bunch off onto the floor, right when the chocolate lab happened past. My mom handled it beautifully, letting the dog outside to shake without missing a beat. This from the woman who had me dust crevices with a toothbrush as a teenager :) Grandkids have it good.

P has enjoyed that same (ever dwindling into the vacuum) bag of flour countless times now and his recycling truck has a permanent white sheen to it. But the seeming seriousness of his pursuit and his extreme homesickness for his dirt-pile makes the mess worth it. I don't know if my mom's kitchen floor would agree...

Then when we woke up one morning there was real snow on the ground and P was psyched. Holding him and saying good morning to my mom, I hadn't yet seen the snow. He grabbed my face, turned it to his, gave me a very pointed look and then turned my face to the window. I hope I never forget the excitement that look held. Then he wanted his boots, NOW, and to play in the snow. As you can see, he didn't feel the need to bundle. He raced willy-nilly, looking just as frisky in the cold as the horses and dogs. Then he remembered a book where the snow is describes as biting. He picked some up and then threw it down saying he had "snowbite." When he really was finally frostbitten we headed inside to work with some warmer snow on the center island. Happy trails on my mom's floor (flour or muddy boots), either way :)