Unlike the lower 48, it is way too warm here. We are approaching week 2 of higher than 32 degree temperatures along with a few days of precipitation sprinkled in. We're losing all of our snow, the roads are glazed doughnuts early in the morning, and the cross country trails are worthless. It's just odd and annoying. The winter is nowhere near over, so let's please just plow straight on through and enjoy the sledding hills and ski trails without any melting detours.

The reprieve of cold and snow means the grounds crew at the townhouse stopped by to blade the icy lot and truck away the snow mounds occupying the remote corners. Henry did not know what was going on, but he knows all too well the grumble of trucks and beeping of transmissions in reverse, so he quickly alerted Mommy that they needed to gear up and head outside. I'm told he silently devoured the spectacle of the front end loader biting off hunks of rock like snow and dropping it into the dump truck. Sometimes all your dreams of trucks and heavy machinery realize themselves right in your backyard.

Twenty minutes later in the warmth of the living room Becky wisely produced some cotton balls and Henry was soon off to the races moving the snow into his dump trucks.




Our hike to the bog yesterday was a comfortable one at 40 degrees. Henry found a small pocket of sticks under a downed tree that he quickly dubbed a "secret cave." Perhaps those Encyclopedia Brown books are sinking in.

He also loved examining the sewer cap, but I advised him to not get too close, lest the CHUDS get him.



In the end the best part of the hike was completely unexpected and unplanned, and occupied 20 minutes of our time -- walking all over crunchy ice.

With the holidays passing and the bathroom work finished, it's been much easier to enjoy spending time around town with Henry. Whether it be sledding, hiking in Baxter Bog, walking down to the lake, or taking in an Aces hockey game, there is plenty to do in our dark winter up here.

Henry spent plenty of time covering his ears at the hockey game (excessive cowbells are the local tradition), but he never fussed, which is all you need to know. The zamboni knocked him into a wordless state, which is tough to do these days. Top it off with a four wheeler tooling around the ice during an intermission promotion, and it's easy to understand how Henry really loved the hockey game.

We recently picked up some skates and will be giving those a spin this weekend. We know enough about branding and advertising to market the impending experience as "hockey", not "ice skating." He's excited.



We toured a preschool last week and liked all of what we saw. He'll be the perfect age for it in the fall of 2014, so we only need to focus on a single hitch -- potty training. He enjoyed the visit, wants to go back to the school, and keenly remembers a wooden train being played with in one of the rooms we peered in. It all adds up to a guy that is showing great progress in trying the potty so he can go to school. We're getting better at it and trying harder everyday.




At St Elizabeth's gym, after months and months of visits, Henry finally noticed the flood lights.

After a few weekends of scraping tiles, belt sander dust, and drop cloths everywhere, the bathroom is finished.

We had Henry pretty pumped on Christmas Eve for Santa. Who's coming tonight? "Santa." How is he getting here? "Reindeer!"

After presenting Henry with the dish of cookies, he gingerly walked them over to the television stand. Becky took the milk over in tow. Once situated safely on the stand Henry declared that the reindeer needed an orange, and quickly went running for the fridge. Soon an orange was brought to the party and all was well. We explained that for Santa to come, good little boys needed to now head for bed. With Santa and his reindeer rationed up, Henry proudly marched upstairs holding his rag, eager to read a few stories before hitting the sack.


Unlike previous years, Henry tore through any and all wrapping paper quite easily. The only hiccup we kept hitting was a need to crack open the toy at hand rather than unwrap everything first. With mommy and daddy's steady hand, the gifts were unwrapped steadily and the trucks were the immediate hit. Within an hour the train set was in heavy use and the workbench was getting pounded on. Home runs at every corner.


Henry seemed to really enjoy all the evidence of Santa's visit.

The annual cookie marathon occurred just before Christmas and unlike years past, it happened on a Saturday rather than a Friday. With a Saturday the baking can begin around lunchtime leaving the evening for decorating the cookies. Having an entire day greatly cuts down on decorating fatigue (in the past there have been quite a few plain, single color cookies as the operation struggled to find the finish line). In this case everyone had enough spring in their step to give it a 100% through those final moments. The team played like champions.

During the first part of the day I watched Henry very closely as his curiosity was not to be trusted with an oven opening every 12 minutes for a few more trays to zip in and out. After naptime the oven sat cool and he safely cruised around the first floor, finding himself entertained and tickled by all the bakers. As the chatter and work drifted into the night, supervision decreased.





Henry is free to open the fridge at anytime to get his milk, and he safely does. The door opening is not a cause for concern, especially in a busy room. However, after a few minutes some chocolate was detected on his lips and after a short investigation, the evidence was quite clear.




We do make a priority of good nutrition around here, but on cookie day it's like herding cats, so we let it go a bit. The culprit below just worked so hard you have to applaud his tenacity. If he carries this vigor into his schoolwork, it will be easy sailing.

The holiday spirit is in full swing here. Henry and I stomped around the deck on Sunday, shoveled off a foot of new powder, and finally hung some icicle lights. I started a nail every so often, wound the wires around it, and then stepped back to check on my helper. He was very interested in using the broom rather than the shovel, mostly because the shovel is a bit cumbersome for his gloved hands. When they were all hung as best could be, I held up the supervisor and he tapped each nail a few times with my hammer (he refused to use his plastic hammer -- he knows the real stuff when he sees it). We experimented with the blinking frequencies on the lights and decided to just have them on and simply avoid the seizure inducing settings.

It's all about songs lately. "Daddy, sing 'Who wouldn't know." "Sing 'Jingle Bells." I always comply. I usually know the refrains just fine, but the verses are tough. What I forget, I just make up and keep going. Henry seems to enjoy it, but more importantly he obviously recognizes my little tricks. "Daddy, sing about "Jeep/Snowplow/Dump Truck/etc." Over and over again the requests come, and each time Daddy's song is different, even if the vehicle is the same.



The floor in the master bath is getting the boot and like all projects, Hank is involved. He gathered his toolbox, hard hat, carhartt's, and came on up. I gave him a dull scraper and off he went. His enthusiasm lasted about 15 minutes, but for that quarter hour, he was a machine.

For some reason December 7th was stuck in my mind as St Nick's day, but thanks to a few posts on facebook, we were quickly reminded that it was the 6th. St Nick already had his presents prepared so we were not taken aback. We told Henry how he had to leave his boots out for St Nick and he quickly complied, placing them on the steps so St Nick wouldn't be able to miss them. Henry is enjoying (read: occasionally breaking) the Christmas decorations around our home and is definitely getting a sense of the season. He is able to clearly say Santa and if his excitement for St Nick was any evidence, he's going to be pretty pumped for Christmas Eve.



Henry and I sat down to build a small toolbox (thanks, Home Depot). He really seemed to enjoy the sanding and hammering portions, though in the end he only wanted to find a way to use his drill. Life is always exciting when you begin a project with the sentence "Go get your tools!"