Bean made a snow yardstick. 22 inches, y’all.
See? Just like the beach.
You can even get buried up to your neck in the sand. Snow. Whatever. It’s just like the beach.
(They also built a snow castle.)
My brother is a fun uncle. This is one of my favorite pictures of the two if them. They’re laughing SO HARD. Especially Bean. I am pretty sure he used this moment as an opportunity to accidentally on purpose pee in his snowsuit.
So I should be on my way to New York right now, to my uncle’s house in Westchester, to have an early Christmas dinner with some cousins who can’t make it to any of the other Santiago family events. This is why I am not, much to my chagrin, at ROFLchester.
Anyhoo. This morning we discover that “they” are forecasting up to 18 inches of snow. So we’re not going. To Westchester, or to Rochester, or to anywhere else except Target, which is, in case you were wondering, utter BEDLAM on the Saturday before Christmas, thankyouverymuch.
I’m hardly an expert. I’m not the weather lady. But as far as I can tell it is not snowing. I’d rant about how “it better snow” if it weren’t for the fact that the universe is clearly unimpressed with my demands.