Thumpety, Thump, Thump.

The wet snow that gifted my girls with a snow day last week rolled up into giant balls as easily as I've seen on any cartoon or Calvin and Hobbes comic strip.  I swear, I have never had that experience before, and I was so ecstatic about it that I led my daughters through the amazed and enthusiastic building of two snowpeople.  After about a half-hour, they got cold and bored and went inside to play "Hotel," which basically means they check willing participants into different rooms in the house, over and over, and hand off sets of the mysterious spare keys from our junk drawer.

But I kept at it in the snow, even going so far as to prune hedges and overgrown trees in our yard for hair, while Marley got all patronizing and yelled, "Good job, Mom! Keep it up!" out the side door.  Eventually, I got the girls to run out and at least pose by their Snow Daddy (left) and Snow Mommy (right) and pretend that they had had a full afternoon of winter fun.

And the sad end to this story is that by the next night, Snow Daddy's head had rolled off for the second time, and Snow Mommy had crashed face-first into the lawn, totally wasted.