The snow was so welcome because everything was so dry here in Oklahoma.
Everyone, even the adults have enjoyed it.
“Grandma! Grandma! The snow is perfect. Just perfect.” One
granddaughter ran in through the front door to inform me.
“Perfect?” I ask. Of course, at this point and time in life the kids
have to draw me a picture there is such a gap between our ages.
“Perfect,” She repeated.
“What makes snow perfect?” I'm still trying to gain an understanding
of what she means.
“Well,” she holds her hand out with open palms up. “It is just right
for snowballs. I mean it sticks together so well, you just can't believe
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind I remember my childhood and
how thrilling it was to get a snow that was just “perfect.” Then was when
we could make wonderful snowmen. And as if to answer my thoughts she
“Oh wow! This is going to make wonderful snowmen.”
By this time I'm thinking about the cartoons of Calvin and his snowman
building. I started to say something but decided, maybe I should keep
quiet. A beheaded snow man beside the body might give the neighbors
something else to wonder about as they discuss our ways. Instead of
mentioning Calvin's snowmen I simply smile to myself. My granddaughter
seemed to be satisfied with my positive attitude and was back out into the
No sooner had she left than my daughter-in-law drove up. Her little
ones were piling out of the car. There was a flurry of some sort but I
didn't pay any attention because I was busy at the stove. When I looked up
to see the little one hold her hat up that was completely covered with
snow I had to notice.
She was grinning with the most agreeable, wide smile and said,
“Gramma! Brother had fun!”