Well, it's been rather like that for us with this year's snowfall. Last year, of course, the world was white for a good week or so in the lead up to Christmas. But while Ruby was sort of fascinated with with the falling flakes (giving me her wonky-eyebrowed quizzical look, which means "I'm not exactly sure what's happening here, but we like it, right?"), and with watching her big sister Ava tramp about making holes in the fluffy white garden, the whole thing held her attention for about the same amount of time as, you know, a curtain would... or perhaps a brick.
This year, the whiteness of the garden was met with more enthusiasm. But, unlike birthday parties, snow was not destined to make it on to Ruby's list of favourite things.
It all started well. When I whispered in her ear to tell her what had happened overnight, she gasped and belted (too fast, as ever) to the French doors in the kitchen. Unperturbed by bashing her nose on the glass (couldn't quite stop in time, as ever), she yelled: "ISS SNOW! ISS SNOOOOOW! ISS SNOWMAN MUMMY!" and she started pulling at the handle, desperate to get outside and get creating.
As I began the Snow Faff (the process of finding appropriate footwear, odd gloves and ridiculous amounts of clothes for layering), I explained to Ru that snow is very cold and she had to wrap up. Mission accomplished (and advice, it would become apparent, thoroughly ignored), Ru stepped tentatively outside and squealed with delight at the sensation beneath her pink wellies.
Approximately one minute later, she had removed her hat, buried one glove and thrown the other one (it had attached itself to her little snowball, and detached itself from her hand) down the garden.
About 15 seconds after that, her hands had started to go bright red with the cold. Shortly afterwards, a small tree deposited the contents of its branches on to her head. So she tried running (of course!)... and fell face down into a little snowdrift by the trampoline. But it was what happened next, perhaps within about three minutes of setting foot in the garden, that really finished her.
Daddy, trying his very best to get Ruby into the spirit of things, chucked a snowball at her. Only a small, fluffy one, and only gently. It was aimed at her tummy, but she moved... and it hit her square in the face.
And that was that. While her big sister Ava made snow angels and diligently went about building the snowman that had been so highly anticipated, Ruby asked, through snot bubbles and hot tears on her chilly pink cheeks, to go inside and have a cuddle. She enjoyed the snow in much the same way I prefer to (indoors, under a duvet, with a fire going).
I expect that this time next year, Ruby will embrace the wintry weather with all the gusto of her big sister, who has a full year's experience over her. What is it 'They' say? Ah, yes... third time lucky.
Did your toddlers enjoy the snow or were they overwhelmed? Let us know...
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