On the day of the first time you ever saw snow, it snowed more than I had ever seen it snow in the nearly eight years I had lived in Paris.
I knew the night before that snow was on its way. You could just feel it. It was that dull level of cold, and the night sky was a muted shade of gray. Sure enough, when we woke up, the flakes were drifting and our street was covered in white.
It was baby group day, however, at about 2pm I decided it was more of a day for drinking hot cocoa and watching the snow and napping and then going for a walk later. So we looked out the window at the falling snow, then we had a nap curled up on the bed while looking out the window, then we bundled up into warm clothes. It was snowing so much that I got out my après-ski moon boots, which I’ve only ever worn up in the mountains, but which provide good traction in the slush. Then we leashed up the dog and went for a slow walk around the neighborhood.
It was beautiful, son, just beautiful. A wintry Parisian fantasyland, the kind I dream of seeing but almost never do. The snow was falling and the dark evening was lit up by the Christmas decorations. Kids everywhere were throwing snowballs at each other and howling with laughter, sliding in the slush, building snowmen.
I originally put the rain cover on your stroller, but then a few minutes later I decided to take it off and let you experience the snow. You were bundled up in a waterproof cover and so this allowed you to look at the snow and have just a few flakes catch on your eyelids. You seemed interested in the snow, looking around up at it, and we had a nice calm walk.
It’s still hurling down in large flakes, and I hope we can have another day like it soon.