Mom Says I'm Running Away

February 28th, 2011:

All last week Felicia was about just one thing – that it MIGHT snow in Burbank on Saturday.  I had hourly reports from her throughout the entire week about changing weather patterns and her Facebook status was essentially synced to the weather channel.  She went as far as zealously checking the topography of our house and its surroundings, and grew even more excited when she learnt that the hills flanking our home were up to 2,600 feet high.

When we had to cancel our weekend plans to head up to a cabin in Big Bear with some friends because of the insane weather (all but closing the mountain roads), Felicia didn’t care because there was a CHANCE of snow in Burbank.  She was really hoping it would cover our small house in blankets of white fluffiness, like it did in 1949.

All day Saturday we sat huddled in our house with Felicia staring out the window like a child.  At 11:15 (when we got exactly 4 snowflakes) she frantically rushed outside to catch each and every one. The temperature stayed right at freezing throughout the day and I didn’t think a real snow would actually happen – although I didn’t have the heart to tell Felicia that.

Then late in the afternoon the weather gods conspired to make Felicia’s wintery dreams come true and dumped about 45 minutes of fluffy, fat, wet snowflakes across our little community.  Felicia ran outside, despite the freezing temperature, and ran amok – completely thrilled that the “our little house gets snowed on.”

I was thrilled that she was able to experience this after being excited about it all week, yet 3 hours later I heard her sniffling and sneezing and she turned to me and asked “Do you think I got sick from playing outside in the snow?”, I was left speechless, with no comment for my darling wife.

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