As I was getting Sophia dressed to go outside, I was working to pull her sleeve on, and I realized I have another skill to list on my imaginary resume someday. I am an accomplished glove midwife.
Twenty minutes later I realized that I still forget to ask if the little one needs to pee BEFORE putting all the snow gear on. I don't think I'll list that on the imaginary resume.
Outside, I shovelled as Raphael and Sophia played. They sledded down the front steps, flopped down to make snow angels, and attempted futilely to pack the powdery snow into blocks. At one point, Raphael called over to me, "Hey, Mom, do you think I should lick this [metal] porch swing?"
Now, it was a blazing eight degrees out there.
"No, I wouldn't do that if I were you. That would really hurt," I said as mildly as I could. An emphatic tone is frequently mistaken for a challenge by this one.
"Well, I already tried it. And my taste buds are pretty much left over there on the swing. It hurts."
"It seems like I said that before."
My boy, ladies and gentlemen. Edging into adolescence. Pray for...everyone.