Since the picture doesn't show anything but the outer layer, I'll have to break them all down for you here. You know, to give you the full story of just how makeshift it was.
1) Skin tight pants from her Mickey Mouse PJ's that are too small and, thus, perfect to act as long underwear;
2) Pink fleece sweatpants that only stretch to mid-calf on her (she's growing like a weed!);
3) Soccer socks;
4) The only pair of windsuit (and, thus, semi-water-repelling) pants she owns;
5) An orange Halloween long-sleeved shirt;
6) Pink hooded princess jacket;
7) "Go Tar Heels" (as she calls it) sweatshirt on top; and
8) Brand new sneakers (since her only other pair busted Friday night at the mall).
You can see, of course, her hat, the couple-sizes-too-big gloves (at least they are adorned with princesses), and, of course, my version of boots: Target bags (double-bagged!) held on with masking tape.
While I consider this to be a fairly ingenious way of protecting her shoes (it's now a 2-year tradition), I must admit that halfway into the taping process (and again during the "de-bagging" process after the fun in the snow), I began to wonder if I needed to apply the "time is money" philosophy to this scenario. So I'm contemplating, for next year, the idea of purchasing cheapo rain/snow boots for just this occasion...
Thankfully, Ivie doesn't care what she's wearing. So I'm taking full advantage of this attitude at age almost-4, since I'm fully aware that, before I know it, the idea of wrapping bags on her legs and appearing in public will be (GASP!) awful. But yesterday, she just wanted to hit the snow. And fast!
Waiting for Mommy to get ready
Ivie and Emerson had a blast running around playing and making snow angels. I made one of my own, too, at Ivie's urging. Can I mention how happy I am that Brooke was there to document this (tongue firmly in cheek)?
Turns out the snow was not the right variety for making a snowball, much less a snowman. It was straight powder, not wet or sticky at all. But, thanks to Durham Public Works, we (thanks to Danny's muscles) were able to improvise and make a snowman (of sorts) out of three various-sized balls of ice (literally) that the plow pushed into our cul-de-sac. Looking at him upon completion made me want to break out into song:
"With his golf ball eyes and his golf ball nose and his mouth made out of a paint stick....." (Stretching it, I know. Was desperately looking for a way to add a little humor to this post.)
You won't be surprised that both girls wanted to name him Frosty.
By the time we finished Frosty, the adults were ready to retreat back into the warmth of our homes. We had to fight through a tantrum from Ivie, who (in her personal opinion) wasn't quite finished playing, but we ultimately called it a successful outing and headed in for some hot cocoa. (Not really, but I wanted it to have a storybook ending - in reality, we might have had a glass of milk and some 'Nilla Wafers. Or maybe we just dove right into our chicken sandwiches for lunch.)