Maybe I can buy a giant ice-shaving machine....

We're at 26 weeks today. Fourteen more weeks to go--and let that be a reminder to you for your Christmas shopping as well. It struck me this week as I was shopping for a friend's baby shower that I will never have a reason to buy my baby one of those adorable snowsuits that make their little arms stick out and pad them like the Michelin Man. I'll never buy a little sled or snow saucer to pull him or her around the neighborhood. This is a sad thing for me. Some of my favorite childhood memories involve romping in the snow, coming in with numb fingers and wrapping my hands around a mug of hot chocolate to thaw them out. There was a huge hill not far from our house that sent you sailing down into a retention basin, and it was THE place to sled after school--and one of the most dangerous, since the Older Kids would go there at night and build up little moguls that you wouldn't see till right before they launched you into the air. (My one near-unconsciousness experience came when a group of us piled onto two sleds and held onto each other to make one giant sledding mass, then hit one of these things and were sent flying in all directions. I hit my head when I landed and laid there debating whether or not to fight the overwhelming desire I suddenly had to sleep. Ah, the memories.) Snowmen in the front yard, snowball fights between houses, cross country skiing in gym class...just another bunch of experiences my kids will most likely never have. Granted, they'll have a surfing unit in high school and have their first near-unconsciousness experience when a book falls off a shelf onto their head during an earthquake, and then marvel that I didn't grow up with those events in my life. But still, I'd really like a reason to buy one of those snowsuits.