
I’ve always assumed that when snow is mentioned, we all understand its characteristics. It’s wet, white, made up of individual flakes, and, of course, very, very cold.
My stepdaughter Kiley was raised in California and often talked about wanting to build a snowman. When she was three years old, my husband and I planned a trip to Squaw Valley in Lake Tahoe. It was only a three-hour drive from our home in Napa. I was pregnant so I decided skiing wouldn’t be a good idea. Michael was anxious to hit the slopes, so Kiley and I decided to go outside the lodge and build a snowman.
We watched Michael come down the slope and stow his skis. He came inside and asked how Kiley liked the snow. She said she liked snuggling by the fire with her hot chocolate better.
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