We woke this morning to find a blanket of snow on the ground.  It was a very thin blanket, maybe a centimeter or so, but the kids were happy to see it.

After spending at least a solid minute admiring the white stuff out the kitchen window, Tage turned to me and said, “Now we should stay in the house and not walk on it, and not drive the car on it, either.”

Wow, this kid’s really a lightweight, I thought.  It’ll make for a very long winter if he starts staying inside in the second week of November, because of a half-inch of snow.

Turns out I totally misunderstood.  When I assured him that it was perfectly okay to go out and walk on it, he hastened to explain the error of my ways.  “If we walk on it,” he told me gravely, “it will go away.”

If only it were that easy, son.