Quite obviously, she remained in utero protected from the icy temperatures that permeated our bedroom flooring early Saturday morning. Instead she made sure to be included in the fanfare with regular and assuring pokes and jabs of every body part known to man.
We wasted no time in dressing Cutter for the out of doors; snow pants, warm socks, snow boots, jacket, mittens, and hat. It was comical to say the least, and he remained bothered and weary by the whole affair. This would be my typical toddler; adamantly chanting, "snow" "snow" "snow" and pointing to all that white stuff that magically appeared overnight. We ventured into the snow, where he adamantly refused to wear his mittens.
It would seem his blizzard arrival into this world did not carry through to his toddler temperament, and as you can see in the pictorial evidence, he did not enjoy his ride in the sled nor the tromping through the snow in the slightest. Truth be told, I think the high-ankled snow boots through him for a loop. In the end, a ride in Daddy's arms and a snowball fight with Mia put that incredibly charismatic smile back on his face.
There’s always next time.