This Could Be A Long Winter.

It turns out that Rudy doesn't like walking in the snow. She doesn't even like standing in it. And we're only finding this out now because last year at this time she had just turned one, and she didn't start walking steadily on her own until the snow stopped falling on a regular basis. Like late March.

It snowed here a little bit before Christmas, and Rudy has insisted, "Mommy carry you," for every trip we've made to or from the car since. When we tried full-on playing on the snow the other day, Rudy was content in the sled with Marley for only three minutes, and then she started crying, and then she wanted to be carried, and then she wanted to go inside. While Marley galloped around in the snow, threw snow, licked snow, and collapsed in the snow, Rudy watched miserably from the mudroom.

And then we had a blizzard. It's still snowing outside. Or maybe it's the howling wind blowing it around some more. Whatever. Now there's a foot or so of snow outside, and I've spent the day all greasy in some old sweatpants and one of Todd's wool sweaters, and I feel like I'm back at Smith College all frumpy and defiant about it.

Rudy let me bring her outside while Todd was shoveling and Marley was crawling in a snow fort they had made out of the plowed pile by the driveway. She would not let me put her down. When I tried to set her on the ground, even the ground cleared of snow, she went all limp and made her legs noodle-y. She is just not having it. So when all the cousins are together and playing outside in the snow, someone's going to have to stay inside with Rudy. All cozy and warm by the fire. Oh, I guess I'll do it. I don't mind.