The damn groundhog just had to go and see his shadow (or not see it, I can never remember which one it is that means more winter), and we are doomed to more cold weather, more cooped up-edness, more boredom. I am trying, good LORD, I am trying here. I am fully expecting any day to reach into my bag of tricks and find my fingers grazing the bottom of the empty sack. The novelty of Christmas and birthday gifts is worn off now, there are only so many art projects that a four year old can do before she grows tired of them, and Charlie's favorite pasttime of throwing toys into the wall/door/someone's face, while thrilling for him, isn't exactly barrels of fun for the rest of us. The kids are even sick of watching TV. ^@%!????!!!!! As a last ditch effort last week I offered to put on a dvd for Ella, and she politely refused. I felt her forehead, she was fine. The only other logical conclusions are that she is as completely OVER winter as I am and cannot wait to get outside and run free, or it's a sign of the apocalypse. Either one. As I type this I am sitting on the couch, looking out at a snow-covered front yard, while on my computer I am going through files containing photos such as this:
and counting off the weeks until we can pack up the winter coats and boots and hats and head outside again.