|A kiss and a cuddle|
|Me and my Snowman|
My three year old little boy has given me cause to celebrate every day since the day I found out I was going to be his Mum.
This is the beauty of being a parent. There are so many reasons that call for a celebration. Big ones, little ones, the really important ones, and the ones that are considered really important.
Like properly experiencing snow for the very first time. Not the little flurry that lasted all of ten minutes. And not that time when it was so late in the evening, all you could do was sit at the window and watch as it enveloped dark silhouettes in its silver cloak.
Today was different. The snow started falling even before breakfast was done. The cold grey sky, heaving under its burden, looked ready to burst.
And so the snow fell, on and on through the morning, large flakes tumbling down thick and fast. Till all was covered in a pristine blanket of incandescent white.
All that remained was to wrap up in woolly layers and head out to revel in the warmth that only a first snowfall can radiate.
Then there was the business of throwing snowballs, using the Mother for target practice. She was game enough, what with it being another monumental first.
Until she had had enough and threatened immediate withdrawal from the scene of action and a capping of all further snow-related fun.
The focus shifted immediately to the more sedate task of building a snowman. Another first worthy of celebration.
There was much snow-rolling, patting, pruning and thumping, before a vaguely snowmanesque shape emerged from the mounds of white that were beginning to form all around.
The best thing about a first is that there is no precedent to follow. So even when shrivelled leaves become eyes and a lump of snow becomes the nose, the end result is still endearing in all its frozen entirety.
Enough to warrant a kiss and a cuddle.