Conversation about Snow

At the breakfast table.

My daughter, wearing bright yellow with pink flowers, two sizes too big rain boots: I got snow boots!

My son: Those aren’t snow boots. those are rain boots!

This devolved into an argument about the true nature of the boots, then evolved to a discussion of where snow comes from.

Daughter: Snow comes out of the grass.

Son: NO! Snow comes from the sky.

Daughter: From the GRASS!

Son: From the garage.  Daddy’s garage.   It’s not your garage. 

Me: Nope.  It’s Daddy’s garage.

Son: But Daddy can share.

So there you have it.  Snow is all my husband’s fault because it comes out of his garage.

One comment

  1. Finally! Someone to blame for those miserable winter months!


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