Gibbie is our cold boy. He likes "coldness". His other favorite qualities include "softness," "coziness," and "loudness."
Man, does he love winter! He makes snow angels, and just stays on the ground, staring at the sky. He loves to throw snowballs, dress up warmly, work on shovelling, get raced around the yard in a sled, just watch the snow fall. I wonder if it's because he's a winter baby? He was early exposed to the cold. I remember that even as a newborn, he liked to be out in the fresh air.
I too love winter. I have fond memories of walking with Paul through sparkling night snow, weighing whether I ought to let myself fall farther in love; later walking hand in mittened hand together, late again because we were so wrapped up in talking. Further back, of playing outside in the deep snow until I couldn't feel my legs, that weightless feeling of lying face up in a snowbank, the squeak of my snowpants as I walked to school, and of course the gleeful anticipation of a potential cocoa-after-sledding-art-on-the-dining-room-table-filled snow day, as the white heaped higher outside the windows.
On the other hand, our little Ezra has always disliked the cold. He likes to be free from the burden of clothing and in Minnesota, in winter, especially with parents like us who keep the house on the chilly side, it's just not possible much. We've had to enact policies in our house requiring mittens, boots, sweaters, scarves, and, yes, even pants to be worn before walking out the front door. He started pitching fits for almost the first time in his life when forced to bundle up for this new snow.
These pictures are from the first snowstorm of the year, which we watched and delighted in up in Battle Lake, Minnesota--we all watched, at least, and all of us excepting Ezra delighted in it. There was enough snow, for one day, to scrape together a hopeful little snowman. Ezra would have nothing to do with the snowman. Does he look like he's having fun on the little blue sled? Trust me, he wasn't. He tearfully didn't want to wear even a sweater. He wanted to be held, wrapped up in a blanket. Well, really, he wanted just to go back inside.
I think Ezra has had a tiny bit of winter fun since then. But it's been in spite of the cold, in spite of the snow. My theory is that he's just still so little, and sees himself as such, that a little dangerousness, a little adversity, just isn't any fun at all. I bet it will be a whole nother story next winter.