I pointed out the falling snow to Carson, who was kicked back in his car seat watching Cars for the fourth consecutive time.  Needless to say, he was less than impressed with the barely visible flurries that were falling in Kentucky as we drove.  Carson’s only experience with snow thus far has what he’s seen on Thomas and Friends.  I suspect he was expecting mounds of the white stuff and for me to proclaim, “this snow is causing confusion and delay,” just like Sir Topham Hatt.

When we arrived at our apartment complex in New Town, IN, where we’re staying until we find a home to buy, there was about a 1/2 inch of snow on the ground.   Definitely not much snow, you could see patches of grass where the snow had already melted, but certainly more than I’d shown him earlier in the day.   Again, I pointed out the snow.  This time, Carson was far more impressed.

“Snow!!!!”  he exclaimed, his eyes wide with awe.  “Snow, Mommy!  Snow!  Go play snow!!”

Soon we parked the cars and were able to get him unfastened from his car seat, he was beside himself with excitement.  We set him down, his feet crunching the snow beneath his feet.  He looked up at us with wonder and amazement, stomping his feet.  Across the parking lot he eyed a grassy area, covered with even more snow.

“Go play snow, Daddy!!!” and he took off towards the field.  Since he wasn’t wearing a coat or gloves, we had to coax him into the apartment to get the proper playing in the snow attire.  We found that our apartment had a small, fenced patio overlooking a little duck pond. 

“Go play snow, NOW!”  Carson demanded as we hurriedly tried to wrangle him into a coat, hat, and gloves.  Finally we opened the door and he stepped outside, making footprints in the snow.  Back and forth he walked across the patio, checking out his footprints. 

“Feet, Mommy!!!  Feet”  he pointed out to me. His face beamed with joy.

All this excitement brought the ducks in for a closer look (and probably on a hunt for some bread handouts).  The sight of the ducks quacking and waddling through the snow, made Carson squeal with delight.   Soon the ducks lost interest in us and Carson discovered that not only could you make footprints, you could pick up the snow.  Removing his gloves, he felt it’s coldness on his hands.  He smiled and looked up at us to see if he’d get in trouble for touching it.  We showed him how to make a snowball, which he carried inside.  Of course, the snowball soon melted, but he continued to look for it.

“Snowball?  Snowball in kitchen?  Snowball on table?” he inquired. 

“No, baby, the snowball melted.  We’ll have to get more snow later.”

He played in the snow several more times that day, until it finally got too late.  He begrudgingly agreed to come inside, but only after promises that he’d get to play in snow many more times now that we live in Indiana.

I think Carson is home.  I know I am.