That was this snowy Sunday.
As I lay here with Alysse's fleecy snowman covered body stretched across my lap, my arms leaning over her all cockeyed to type, I can hear the whistling wind outside our window. I can't see it, but I know there is a blanket of white spread across the ground. The rumor of its coming gave us permission today to wake up a little later than normal, eat pancakes with a side of gingerbread for breakfast, and drink something warm made from the recipe on the back of the cocoa powder tin.
It caused us to load up the car with all manner of winter gear and high tail it to Bethlehem. One of my favorite new traditions, for sure.
The ride home was a bit more treacherous, but we took it slow and listened to the only awake girl tell us all about the snowballs and snow angels to come. She was right.
Afterwards there was getting into our jammies at 4 pm, the decorating of the much anticipated gingerbread house, another round of hot cocoa for all of us including the floor, a quick wardrobe change, the eating of chili by the bowl fulls, and the cuddling up with Christmas creatures for the watching of a family movie.
But, best of all, was the knowing that Bethlehem came home with us. Just before bed as the girls piled into ours for the reading of books, Hope brought in a basket of noise makers so we could sing about baby Jesus being born. Maddie caught on fast as she started shouting too, "Okay, guys, now 'peat affer me!" The sound of "Angels We Have Heard on High" (along with some other Martins girls' originals) has never sounded better.It seems these days are all the sweeter when they come after a long stretch without any snowy Sundays in the forecast.
Treasuring this,
Katrina
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