Yeah, yeah, you're all sick to death of hearing about SNOWTOBER! or whatever the hell we arrogant self-centered Mid-Atlanticans are calling the pre-Halloween snow that's already pretty much melted away by now anyway, but I still have PICTURES to post, gosh darn it.
The kid is all, "Whatever, Momzo, you loonball. Have I told you how much you suck because you didn't get me boots yet and you're making me tromp out here to stand in front of the neighbor's jack-o'-lantern in galoshes and a hand-me-down jacket from God-knows-where with a busted zipper?"
And then she's like, "Wait, WHAT? Hot chocolate with marshmallow fluff and whipped cream and a Hershey's syrup drizzle? Why didn't you say that in the first damn place?"
But, yeah, we got snow over the weekend. Not much, maybe an inch and a half in total, and if you promise not to tell anyone that I ever confessed to this, then I'll go so far as to admit that it was possibly kind of maybe a little bit pretty, once we were done with the doctors' appointments in the morning and we could spend the rest of the day in the house in our pajamas with the heat cranked up.
The four-year-old -- "Mother, I am four and a HALF, which means I am ALMOST FIVE, please get it right!" -- of course thought the snow was the Coolest. Thing. EVER! as children her age are wont to do.
Until I ever-so-helpfully reminded her that, um, yeah, but if you guys know so much about women, how come you're here at like the Gas 'n' Sip on a Saturday night completely alone drinking beers with no women anywhere?
Wait. Wrong movie.
But it was kind of exciting, I guess, now that it's in the rearview mirror. Here's hoping that early snow means that it will be sunny and 60°F on Christmas.