Snow, snow, snow. Oh so fluffy & white. Falling down so slowly, it’s pretty to see. But why people want to touch it, befuddles me.
Give me snow to touch and I’ll throw it back at you. Do you know that it’s very cold? Why would I want to touch something that bites me back? My family is still working on me to make peace with it. I’m still working on them to stop the madness.
While visiting Ottawa, I got shoved into these puffy, crinkly snowpants, a thick coat, heavy shoes called boots that go up to my knees, mittens that restrict my hands, and a hat that gets pulled over my eyes so that I can’t see at times. Then I get pulled outside to “play”. Where does play come in when I can’t even move? Don’t even get me started with the walking.
To continue the “fun”, I get thrown horizontal. My mommy lays down next to me and proceeds to wave her arms and legs like a crazy kid. She says she's making snow angels. Then she expects me to do the same. What? On this cold snow?
While in Ottawa, I get taken to this place called the Rideau Canal and an event called Winterlude. A thick blanket was tucked around me and I was dragged around in this thing called a sled. Oh, of course, restriction is sooo much fun. I want to scratch but my arms are stuck to my sides. I want to walk but my legs are weighed down by these boots. I want to talk but my mouth is covered. In fact, I'm all covered. Really. Fun. At the end of it all, I get asked if I’m having a good time. I tried to blink to let them know what I really thought of it. But they haven’t figured out my blink language yet. Of course, they want to teach us their language, but are slow to learn ours.
Since I can count to 10 now, I rate snow a 5 out of 10. Next time my family goes out into the snow, I’ll just look out the window at them, yell “no, no, no (snow, snow, snow)”, and continue about my play.
