A few days after Christmas, it was my morning to wake up with Jack. His first little cries came around 8 am and I tucked my robe around my waist as I walked into the makeshift nursery at my parents' house. Jack was bouncing up and down in his crib like it was a trampoline and I greeted him with a good morning hug & kiss.
After breakfast I looked out on to the snow covered golf course that is my parents back yard and decided it was time for Jack to go outside.
I gathered boots and mittens, snow pants, & coats. I got myself dressed first, stuffing my feet into my mom's too big Uggs and pulling a fleece headband over my ears. I was going more for warm and less for "cute mom frolicking in the snow with her one year old".
Jack was wiggly and impatient as I pulled boots on over his footy pajamas and swooned over his cuteness in bib snow pants. His mobility was seriously compromised but I loved how he tried to march around the kitchen, his legs making that "swish" noise as his pants rubbed together.
Once we were outside it didn't take long to strap Jack into his new sled and get him giggling. I ran in wide circles around the yard, spinning him around and around. His eyes were wide and he squealed with joy.
We picked up handfuls of snow and threw them in the air. There was a face plant (or two). Jack's cheeks grew red and his nose was a steady stream of snot. The dog ran along side us, as happy as we were for some fresh air.
It became pretty clear when the swooshy snow pants and cold air had lost their appeal and we made our way back to the house with papa taking pictures and daddy waving to us from the back window.
We were a flurry of snow pants and mittens walking through the door and it wasn't 2 minutes before Jack was distracted by one of his new Christmas toys. The whole event was no more than 15 minutes. But it was special, and wonderful, and so many other things.