Oliver made his first snow angel and didn’t know I was watching from the kitchen window.

When I came to the window, he was sitting in the snow, legs extended.  He laid back in the snow, and started moving his legs like windshield wipers, side to side.  I wanted to knock on the window to catch his attention and mouth the words your arms– don’t forget your arms, but I waited a moment and he remembered the arms on his own.  The ten seconds I watched him there in the snow, waving his arms and legs in unison to make his snow angel are permanently etched on my heart.

When he finished, he sat up, then stood carefully, then hopped out of the snow angel he had made.  He turned around and looked at it, and exclaimed, “Perfect!”

–
Bang bang bang!  On the cold metal door.  Is anybody home? he shouts.

I go out to the breezeway, open the door halfway and stand just inside.  He is holding a snow cake in his hand, grinning like he’s going to throw it at me (I think to myself– I’ll let him do it once, then we will have a serious talk about throwing snow at mommy), but then he takes a bite of it and stands there talking to me while eating his snow.  I comment on his snow angel.  He says he tried to make a snow man, but that didn’t work.  So he made a snow angel instead.  You want to come out and get the mail? He asks.

I’ll be there in a minute, I reply.  I’m writing something down.