Snow Please (and Happy Birthday, Dorothy!)

We had a few mini snow storms in December, and although they were wimpy by New England standards, I was quite pleased since we really have had no snow to speak of for a little under three years.  I know this for a fact, since today is Dorothy's third birthday and the December in which she was born, followed by that February broke all snow records for Philadelphia, yet since I picked up Dorothy in March of 2011, we have had no more than about two inches twice.

And Dorothy is a Maine girl who loves to frolic in the snow!  And I love snow unless I have to travel in it!  (Although I do have an irrational fear of going to work on a snowy day and getting stuck in the city.  I tell myself it should be a pipe dream, since I could stay in a hotel, say, and get my first uninterrupted night of sleep since Owen was born.  But still, my boys need me!)

But where was I?  I am blogging rusty, so you'll have to forgive my digressions.  Anyway, I love snow and am hoping that we will get a big storm this year--I'm talking about 24 inches of snow.  I'm thinking I'll have to get my sister, Martha, to visit, since whenever she is scheduled to fly here there is a storm that prevents it happening.

But we had at least two respectable snows here in December--each about four or five inches.  I even had a snow day on one of them, and stayed home and played with Owen.  I took him outside in his snow pants, parka, boots, and mittens.  Of course, in a cliched way, it took me about 30 minutes to get him bundled up, which ended up being more than the time we spent outside.  He liked it though!  He gets frustrated with his coat, as it is a little stiff and is designed for a kid with a neck like a giraffe, whereas Owen is a Boy With Very Little Neck.  But he was intrigued.  Here are some pictures of our house and yard and Owen in the snow:

Looking at the pictures makes me wonder--just how do you put mittens on a toddler?  I can only get them half on and then they hang all skewed and bunched and make his hands useless.  There has to be a better way.

Poor Dorothy wasn't able to enjoy these two storms much, since she had injured her leg with some vigorous hill-running, and so was on bed rest more or less.  She did very much enjoy the snow in her yard; we just didn't let her do much frolicking in it.

And I shall end with a picture or two of the birthday girl.  Happy Birthday, Dorothy!  You're my favorite bulldogge, even though I am not your favorite human!

No No No No No No No No

Owen is on the cusp of speaking.  Or rather, Owen is on the cusp of speaking in real words and sentences, for he currently speaks all the time, it’s just that his sentences, always featuring a lot of the letter D, tend to sound a bit R2D2-ish:  De do da de do de di doo?  Sometimes it almost seems like a sharp clip on the back as he talks would change the above into real words.  And often in the midst of the nonsense syllables real words appear, like gold in the sand:  de doo da di do thank you de do?  Dorr! (his word for Dorothy) De do di big boys de do?  Etc. 

He plays an iPhone word app game with Susan and she says his favorite words are “opera” and “bellow” and that he repeats them often.

Hands down though, his most oft-repeated word is No.  And it is not enough that he merely say “no”; he must needs say:  No no no no no no no.  In the middle of the night when Owen wakes up crying and I pick him up to nurse, he’ll say no no no no no, and I’ll think (and often say), I’m the one who should be saying no!  But he’ll say it with vigor, he’ll shout the no’s in anger, he’ll speak them in triumph, and he’ll say them sadly while shaking his head, no no no.  He’ll say it even when we are quite certain he means yes.  I will be glad when no is a less featured word in his vocabulary.

Owen dreaming of saying no.