Cold and snow. Two of my favorite things. Really. This not a superficial, when it strikes me likeness. It’s a tried and true check off the box, this gal loves winter kind of thing. I’d move somewhere permanently cold and snowy if I wasnt married to the tropical version of Santa Claus.
All this cold and then melting “miserableness” that everyone has been complaining about has created some most beautiful icicles hanging from the eaves of every poorly vented, slanted, whatever roof. One day driving home Maddie was wowing at the houses with the most icicles, marveling how Elsa had created such a wonderful iceland in the corner of those roofs.
It started innocently enough. “Mommy, can you knock down some icicles for me to see?”
That’s how I found myself collecting icicles through an open upstairs window and bringing them into the kitchen for my gloved offspring to investigate Elsa’s handiwork. I was marveling at the scientist I was raising. Go me!
It’s also how I found myself walking into the kitchen a few minutes later to discover her licking an icicle humming “Let it Go” to herself. Upon my stern lecture about how icicles are filled with all sorts of detriment that we wouldn’t want to put in our mouths, my dear daughter looked up at me and said, “But mommy, iCICLES sound like POPsicles so that means we have to eat them!”
Okay, at least she’s starting to pay attention to how words and sounds are connected to meaning.