I keep seeing those snowman kits in the store and being like, Dude, I could easily make one of those, thrift store hat and scarf, something stuck to Popsicle sticks for face and buttons, but clearly after a year of saying this, I am not going to, so I just lay down the $10 and now we have an amazing-looking snowman that Eleanor is stoked about.
I tell you this: rolling a snowman is 100% easier when you aren't five months pregnant. SO much easier, in fact, that I made the middle ball too big and couldn't lift it. The mailman came by at that point and I was all like, I made my snowman ball too big, and now I can't lift it. *pout* But I guess I was being too subtle because he didn't offer to help and I had to shave half of it off and run my arms through it like it was a bead.
Whatever. Our snowman is killer, and I HAD to make it that big because it needs to keep being bigger than Eleanor. Remember THIS guy?
Oh man. Her birthday approacheth, and I keep having Feelings.
Speaking of feelings. Eleanor woke up from her nap cranky as a bear, so we put on her rainsuit (the mileage I am getting out of that thing) and went for a stomp.
And anywhere there's even the smallest parking lot, there's a mountain.
And then descend with alacrity.
Tomorrow's another warm one, so we may have to do repairs on the snowman, but then we descend back into Usual Temperatures so he should be good for a WHILE.
As should we.
As should we.