On Thursday morning, we awoke to find three inches of snow on the ground. I don't know that Samson had any idea what was going on, but he definitely got caught up in how excited his mom and I were at the sight of snow. And then we remembered: We have not yet bought him snow boots. Or mittens. The mittens was a total oversight, and I take full responsibility. As for the boots, he's not walking yet, so we thought we could wait a bit.
I mean, it's not like we'd planned a snowshoeing trek and forgotten his boots.
In any event, we were able to borrow mittens (thank you, Lucas). And Vicki improvised with some plastic bags and rubber bands over his snow pants. Hardly the stuff of Norman Rockwell prints or L.L. Bean catalogue shots, but effective nonetheless.
As it turned out, he was much too happy in his cousin Lucas' sled to want to even try walking in the snow. You can't see from this picture, but he's smiling.
Uncle Greg tried to get Sam to taste some snow, but he was more interested in the plow coming up the road.
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