Patience: not a virtue in my house.

Yesterday we cleaned up the back yard, put away all of the summer stuff (sandbox toys, lawn chairs, bikes and wagons), the lawn mower and the snow blower traded places, and Uriah pulled down his ice fishing stuff (priorities, people).  Our snow shovels took up a forward position by the back door.  The wind chimes came down, I cleaned out one last garden for the season and the gutters were checked for excess junk.  The dark clouds moved in and the wind picked up.  A little bit of rain fell.  And Finn proceeded to ask every four minutes - all day long - when the snow was going to start.

It didn't really snow at all up here and Finn woke up in a bear of a mood because of it.  So while he moped around the house this morning, alternately looking outside and sighing heavily, and making a construction site all over my piano, I spent this morning doing the most mundane things known to man: finishing up the laundry, cleaning the fish tank and washing some windows.  And trying not to be frustrated every time I had to answer that the snow would come when it was good and ready.

For about twenty solid seconds, the snow came down in teeny tiny flakes during lunch and Finn pressed his sticky, jelly face right up against my freshly cleaned window and screamed with excitement and asked where his snow suit was.

And then the snow stopped.

He looked at me with his little brow furrowed and said through his teeth (his new way to talk when he's frustrated):  "That was not enough to fill up my back yard!"





This was 6 months ago. I'm okay with waiting a little bit longer for snow to fill up my backyard.