Oh my, oh my my my. What a glorious day.
Look at those faces. How can you not get excited when you see them! When there is snow, kids are like moths to a flame. They can't help themselves. They have to go and get all up in its business – eat it, throw it, roll up all around in it. It's their weakness. Like marshmallows.
They are racing, of course, because there is always competition. Brothers and sisters spend vast amounts of time punching, kicking, clawing, brawling, spitting, and pulling each others hair. For the meantime, Denae can still whoop up pretty good, but Kyson can hold his own for being 3 feet tall. He's a scraper (sort of like what I imagine Stuart would be like in a fight). Knock 'em out at the knees.
The Elliotts, however, are far more civilized. You see, whenever trouble comes my way, I automatically curl up into fetal position and start crying. Stuart has learned that he must be here during this scary time to pull me out of fetal position and say “quit being a weenie” – so needless to say, Stuart and I went down the hill together. As a team.
This is Kyson pre-temper-tantrum.
This is Kyson during temper-tantrum.
This is Mom laughing at Kyson throwing a temper-tantrum. He wanted the yellow sled, not the purple one. Obviously, there is a very large difference between a plastic purple sled and a plastic yellow sled in a four year old's mind. It's a very important difference.
I used to love wearing hats with pom-poms on the top, so I lived vicariously through my niece for the day. She was rocking this hat. Lucky.
I, however, was stuck rockin' this hat. No pom-pom here. No style either. I'm pretty sure we should use this for our Christmas card because it shows how suave and sophisticated we are. Obviously.
Brooks is from Fargo, as well. Greetings. Look at those blue eyes. Oh my, my my.
The children must learn how to bail off the sleds at the last minute so that they don't sled off the ledge into the creek. Ya, it's pretty safe.
Safer than being in a snowball fight with your brother-in-law, apparently.