I am Four Years Old

Here in Boston, it snows.  Some years it snows more than others.  Where I am from, it doesn't snow at all.  Before moving here I had seen snow fall maybe one time, and it was not heavy.  My culture doesn't prepare you for winter wonderlands.  Boston culture will only teach you to despise snow (my cah is covehd in snow!).  I try to take a different approach.

In front of my apartment snow piles up, and I look at it and think "omg yes!"  Meanwhile the rest of the city is freaking out that they have to shovel, and throw salt down, and do whatever normal adults are expected to "take care of their homes/businesses."  I just shake my head and smile.  Don't they know that the snow fairy will take it all away and dig a nice path for them?  All they have to do is wait for a little bit, and all their worries will have been for naught!  The snow fairy digs, and breaks up ice and leaves a trail of fairy dust that in turn melts anything that was left.  It is brilliant!

During storms, most people take the hint and stay indoors, sipping on tea and listening to the wind blow, saying occasionally "glad I'm not out THERE."  Me?  I go outside and run around, unaware of how wet and cold I am about to become.  Unaware of the impending sleepiness that is soon to take hold.  What do I do during ice storms?  I go out and make snow men.  What do I do when snow is falling horizontally?  I take the opportunity to do a photo shoot by the Charles River.  

What is important in all of this, though, is the fact that I am never alone.  I am not the only four year old lunatic in this town.  In fact, it is not even always my idea to go out and torture myself accidentally.  Someone might say, "man I would love to play in the snow right now."  To which I would reply, "why not?"  

So here's the why not.  This is how boots get filled with water, and gloves get wet and ruined, and coats stop being warm.  This is when you realize that you should have worn something more water proof, but you weren't planning on playing in the snow to begin with.  This is where you pretend that you are tough, even though your skin is getting red from the wind, and your legs won't carry you faster than a snail's pace.  And don't get me started on the hat hair.  

But you can't blame me.  I am only four years old.

I hope I don't lose the compulsion to do this stupid thing for a while yet.  It is one of my only vices, and I consider that a plus.  Think of it this way.  Rather than snort white powder, all I do is roll around in it.