Three Feet Deep in Snow

Ever since our second big snow in December, Jack has not been able to play outside. The snow was fun the first time, we made snow angles and snow balls and half-hearted snow men. After that it came up past his knees and he informed me from his position, unable to move from the drift in which I had dropped him, that he did "not like this." Since then the snow has only increased.

Earlier this week, in desperate need of milk and laundry detergent I packed the kids into their snow suits and shoved their puffy snow-suited selves down into the straps of their car seats. I then spent about fifteen fruitless minutes trying to back out of the freshly shoveled driveway, as Jack commented curiously on my efforts. That is about when he noticed the backyard: heaps and drifts and piles of snow with the top six inches of fence sticking out in some places and not in others. "Oh no!" he said, "The backyard is Broken!"