Ice Age: The Meltdown

No, I'm not talking about the movie. Although it is one worth having in the collection. I'm talking about winter. Ice. It took some detour, but when it found us, winter brought not initially snow, but a good amount of ice. Pretty ice. Driving around town was like driving through a land of make-believe where everything glittered and sparkled and shined. Picture-taking happy New Englander's like me have our digital shots to prove it, from color to black-and-white to sepia backgrounds.

But the snow wasn't far behind, and what always follows the snow, but the blue skies and its shining sun. Now driving through town wasn't a pleasure, but a risk. The overhanging trees and branches let go of the ice in great chunks, and by the time I got home today, I was thankful my windshield was still intact. The mighty winds are close on the heels of the melting ice. I expect more limbs to be lost to their mighty trees and probaby more power outage time. Our fireplace will be crackling all weekend long, power or not. I expect to be sitting right by that fire when I'm watching the AFC on Sunday, too. God, let the winds cease by then.

I just love winter.

So did you see GMA this morning? Not once, but twice Londonderry got its national claim to fame thanks to the high school students who donated their locks of hair for cancer patients. The ponytails were cut live on TV and at the end of GMA's broadcast, they went back live to the high school for the aftermath. Of course, our local news covered the event as well, but how often does something like that get national attention? Kudos to the participants. I can only ride their coattails as a resident of the town. My brood has yet to claim rights as a student at Londonderry High. But I do vote there. Yes, right in that very gym where this morning's ceremony took place.

Well, I need to go tuck the boys in and head to bed myself. This morning, Jeffrey woke up. "Daddy, my covers are not working," he kept calling G, who had already left for work. I can't understand why instead of pulling the covers up over themselves, the boys will just curl up in a fetal position to stay warm. I went upstairs and covered Jeffrey, and to my surprise, he let me without protesting and wanting to come back to bed with me.

But he didn't go right back to sleep and was getting loud, so I returned to his room to collect him. We had another hour of God-given sleep and I wasn't going to let him sabotage it by waking his brothers. It was still early and he hadn't tainted my undying love for him in his daily acts as the precocious 2-year-old that he is. When I'm tickling him and he is giggling uncontrollably, and I'm trying desperately to get another paragraph read in my book and he won't let me stop tickling him. Or when I repeat his little silly singsong of words and he stops me. "Shut up your mouf", he tells me. And another day is chalked up to failure in potty-training because he is too stubborn to want to give it another try.

But at the store, instead of throwing himself down on the floor to protest my "No" to his getting candy or a toy, today he just trolloped along behind me while I made a quick purchase. "Mama, I'll carry your person," he offers, and I gladly hand him my purse.

That boy melts my heart like the sun melts the ice.