Once Michael had gone down for his second nap this afternoon, it was just Abby and me to ourselves for a little while in the playroom. Much as I was happy to stay down there in the Dry and Warm, I dragged myself upstairs with Abby to get her into the pretty lavender snowsuit that's been hanging in her closet, unused, for over a year, determined to finally give Abby an up-close introduction to snow. I must give some credit to my good friend, Lisa, who texted me earlier in the day requesting some snow pictures, and provided me with the motivation, because I certainly don't have much to spare lately.
It took about fifteen minutes of prep time. The snowsuit had to be retrieved (I let Tom go up to the attic bedroom to do that), and the tags finally cut off. Socks had to be located, and sneakers, as well as plastic baggies and hair ties. I still haven't bought boots for Abby yet, so I covered her feet in ziploc bags, which I then attached to her snowpants with hair ties, before slipping her sneakers on. Abby watched all this with great interest, commenting on her "rainsuit," which I kept correcting to snowsuit, because, "Abby- we're going out in the snow!"
I couldn't find her mittens, but I figured we'd be okay, since I didn't expect her to be out there long, and it actually wasn't particularly cold outside. In fact, by late afternoon, there was hardly any snow left to be found in our back yard, and I felt a little guilty for having waited so long to venture out.
There was excitement in the air as we darted through the kitchen on our way to the side door, and I pointed out the snow to Abby again just before we crossed the threshold to go outside. "Snow!" she repeated, eagerly.
Then, I tried to put her down on the snow-covered stoop. She collapsed her legs like a crippled animal, and would not straighten them. Confused, I tried to show Abby, with my own feet, how interesting it felt to step on snow and feel a crunch underfoot. She was not interested in trying it out. Indeed, she was not interested in going any further at all.
I thought for sure that if we only got off the steps, the magic would sink in. I carried her down to the driveway, and tried to place her on the ground by our patio table. She began to cry. Desperate to convey the to her the awesomeness that is Snow, I said, "Abby, do you want to touch it?"
"Nooo!" she wailed.
I put my own finger into the snow that had collected on top of the table, and scooped out a bit to show her. Intrigued, she quieted, and tentatively reached her own tiny finger to my own. Then she flinched, pulled back, and resumed her weeping. "Too cold for Abby!" she lamented.
By this time, Tom had come outside to see what all of the fuss was about. Flabbergasted, I tried to explain.
"Do you want me to take her in?" he asked. Clearly, that was the solution, but I'd wanted at least one picture to record our first snow experience, and hadn't been able to let go of Abby to take one. She was still refusing to put her weight down fully on the strange, white substance beneath her, and was leaning heavily against me to support herself.
I passed him the camera. "Just take a few pictures, first, for me."
And so he did.
Is she not the saddest snow monkey that you've ever seen?
Clearly, my own enthusiasm was not rubbing off on her.
And so, having captured our adventure on film for posterity, back inside we went.
Abby immediately reverted to her old self again, and bounded joyfully down the stairs back to the playroom, declaring, "Abby doesn't like the snow," as she descended.
I could be wrong here, but I'm guessing that Abby didn't much like the snow.