Jack Frost

Just as we decided to head out to the Christmas Tree farm for my in-laws tree this morning, the wind began to pick up. It seemed that in a matter of minutes, the last few colored leaves were ripped off their branches and hurled down the mountain side as our car hummed passed crisp autumn breezes and bore into the harsh winter wind.

For weeks I have been trying to explain "Cold weather" to the Bear. One particular morning, after several minutes of vigorous pantomiming accompanied by blank staring and head shaking, I picked him up and hoisted him nearer to the freezer. I opened the door and stuck his hand in. "This" I said, "is what Allentown is like." The Bear said, "coooold." Today, a rosy dawn brought in quite the chill and my baby Cubans finally met cold weather.

This morning I lost all my Thanksgiving weight (and then some!) when I dressed the boys for winter. Dressing a toddler for an outdoor winter activity is like trying to get ballet tights on a pissed off octopus. Legs and arms flailing, backs arching, heads thrashing, babbles of protest, taking the occasional toddler knee to the eye or jaw. 8 layers, 2 knit stocking caps, 6 pairs of socks and many many tears later, we were finished. I was sweating and the boys looked like white croquettas.

Every time I see little boys with big blue eyes all dressed up for winter, I can't help but think of Ralphie and Randy from A Christmas Story, bundled up like suburban Eskimos and traversing long winter days filled with Red Rider guns and Scott Farcus types.

Cubby is definitely a cold weather baby. We bundled him up and swathed him in coats, a knit hat and a little scarf. His nose turned bright pink and his blue eyes sparkled up at us from under all his winter wear. He cooed, smiled, and leaned contentedly against J's cheek as we trudged to the top of the hill in search of THE tree. A half a dozen variety of evergreens and firs lined the mountainside, from Charlie Brown trees to the Clark Griswald variety, trees as far as the eye could see. Cubby gazed over them all and felt happy from the tip of his chilly nose, down his jolly baby belly to his warm baby toes.

Then there was the Bear.

He behaved very well and powered through the afternoon. But there was a distinct look of "what the %$#@?" on his face when the car door opened and that first fog horn blast of cold air hit his face. Bewildered and slightly miserable, my poor little Bear walked himself up the mountainside, played with the evergreens and never complained once, even though it took a good forty minutes to find the right tree. He even learned how to give an Eskimo kiss and say, "fa la la," which actually sounded more like "frogger log" but hey, I'm still a proud mama. On the way down his animal sounds and usual chatter started sounding a bit off. We noticed that his jaw seemed to be locked in place from the cold. I began to worry when his eyelids stopped moving, but we made it to the car soon enough and he quickly recovered.

Later this evening we will be decorating Grandma and Poppy's Christmas Tree. The boys will be decked out in their matching red long johns and we will definitely be sipping well earned hot cocoa. This week is floating by in a cloud of happiness and joy. The kids love visiting their grandparents. I don't blame them. Presents and ice cream, cuddles and kisses, trains and wonder of wonders, a staircase! Little smiles play across their faces as they sleep each night. I like to wonder what sort of sugarplum dreams Allentown has brought them this week.

After all the climbing and mountain wandering this morning, I'd bet my right arm that this evening Cubby will be dreaming of candy canes and snow castles, while the Bear dreams of sun tan lotion and palm trees.