Britton has been into what month comes after what month, what season we're in, what season we're about to be in, how long until her birthday - you know the drill. The concept of time as a whole makes no sense to the 3-year-old brain, but she has figured out that it was winter, and according to her mommy, five days ago it was spring. Except, well, it wasn't. Not really.
On the day I got back from my shower, two weeks ago, it was a glorious 70 degrees and sunny. The hubs and I combed through the nursery catalogue we received in the mail, drooling over hydrangeas, peonies, and roses like he normally drools over the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition. I talked up gardening to anyone who would listen, and even bought Britton some Tinkerbell gardening gloves and trowel. With spring right around the corner, we were ready.
And then it snowed again. Not enough to get me out of work, but just enough to make the roads sloppy. I think the final tally was four inches. With more on the way every day until Friday. Britton looked at the snow in disbelief this morning, proclaiming, "It can't snow because it's SPRING, Mommy! You said!" Yes, Britton, I did say it was spring. I was apparently talking out of my ass when it comes to Pennsylvania weather. So no giant order from the online nursery. No gardening tools. I may have heard a sniffle come out of the hubs when I told him we didn't need the rototiller yet. In defiance, he went out and bought a pole saw and hedge trimmer, neither of which we can use for weeks. Britton made do by acknowledging that at least the snow allowed her one more afternoon of tubing!
P.S. You like that hat, don't you? Check it out here!
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