Grace and I woke up this morning to snow on the ground, only enough to cover the grass, but enough to make Grace's face light up with curiosity. We stared out the front window for about 5 minutes, breakfast completely forgotten. Grace kept saying "what that?" her favorite phrase right now. After telling her it was snow, she kept saying the word over and over, quietly, like she was trying to decide if she liked the word. It was a magical moment only to be broken by growling stomachs. Pat had slept in since he was working on homework late (we are such a rowdy crew on Saturday nights), but when he came out, Grace ran right to him, grabbed his hand and pulled him to the window. She kept saying snow, dada, snow.
Moments like these make me feel like a kid again. I always groan during the first snow, think it is kind of pretty, but hate the fact that it signals the beginning of a long cold winter. For the first time in years, I felt excited, happy, and amazed at the beauty of it. Being a parent is truly amazing.
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