Yesterday, we got our first snow. The snow arrived in typical Midwest fashion, with freezing temperatures, winds gusting to 40 miles per hour and zero visibility. Not that any of this stopped Bug and Monkey from going outside.
I'm just grateful that it's going to be a white Christmas. The lack of snow last year made me a complete liar to my children ("Oh, I'm sure there will be snow by Christmas..."). It's easier to feel all holiday-ish when it's white outside and the windows are frosted.
One of my favorite holiday activities is making paper snowflakes. I remember as a very small girl, one who didn't really know how to use scissors, sitting by my mom, attempting to fold white paper into triangles and then cut out designs. I always thought that no one made paper snowflakes as pretty as my mom did.
Every year growing up, we made paper snowflakes. We made dozens and dozens (which is probably a little easier to do when you come from a very large family.) Our paper works of art plastered the windows and walls and hung from the ceiling. We occasionally laminated ones that we were particularly proud of.
Nothing made it feel more like Christmas than when we had our own scissor made snow storm inside, including the zillions of paper scraps littering the floors.
Now that I have my own little family and am making our own traditions, let's just say that not much has changed. (Although I'm apparently the only one who understands how to fold the paper to get a six sided snowflake, so I'm always relegated to paper folding, and don't actually do much cutting.)
I watch Bug and Monkey carefully cut out their designs.
They oh and ah over each other's creations, telling each other what a good job the other one did.
We hang them on the windows, on the doors, and from the ceiling. I get the same feeling that I had as a little girl, that now it's the holidays.
And while I'm glad the ground is white outside, I'll admit that this type of snow is much more my speed.