The Snowy Day

Happy first day of February!  Still doing that New Year, New Year workout regime?  Good for you!  What’s that?  You gave up the juice cleanse?  Probably for the best (let’s be clear -that’s just a starvation diet anyhow).  Good news is that I’m still living in the past with my New Year, Old You series.  Today I get to shine a spotlight on The Snowy Day.  There’s a reason that classics like this one are passed on from generation to generation.  The magical transformation of a city into a snowy, hushed playground, the joy of wandering off on one’s own to create adventure, the fun of reliving said adventures, and the delightful surprise when a new day dawns with more snowy fun in store.

Now that my kids are so over picture books for the most part, I get to go back and read them myself.  While these timeless stories once brought me back to my own childhood, they now bring me back to my own kids’ early childhood days.  Mind you, my youngest is a very new five year old, so “reflecting back” on my early parenting days is a bit like writing a premature memoir (Not you, Anna and Lena.  You’re goddesses who’ve accomplished a lot.  Carry on).  I am absolutely that mom who now stares wistfully at newer moms in coffee shops with their babes in arms, oblivious to the fact that they are wiping spit up off their sweater, or allowing an extra ten minutes to clean up whatever their little one left all over the floor.  Anyhow.  When I used to read The Snowy Day to my kids, their baby and toddler legs would kick in anticipation as they waited for the “Down fell the snow -plop! -on top of Peter’s head,” line, during which I always tapped their heads.  Who knows what they’ll remember and pass on to their own kids from this book one day.  I just hope they enjoy it as much as we did.  (At least four grand kids, please, by the way.  I like babies.)

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