It's been a pretty mild winter so far, and we haven't seen much snow. Each time there have been flurries, Little Guy's wished and hoped and predicted they'd stick, so he could make snowballs. Well, they finally stuck! Just enough to dust the grass and the tops of the tables and chairs, and covered over with an icy crust. But snowball-able, nonetheless. They kept the Mister busy.
Oh, the agony of regret.