My day began this morning with Ruthie persistently letting me know, “I want God to give me snow.” And when I say persistent, I mean she was repeating the phrase every fifteen seconds. I tried squashing it by letting her know that it is very hot outside, and there is no way it will snow today.
This response was not acceptable to her, so I have been answering with the more politically (Ruthie) correct response, “Then ask God to give you snow, honey.”
There was a two hour reprieve while she took a nap, and I thought for sure she would wake up rewired, like rebooting the computer after it’s acted up. But after awakening, she bounded down the stairs asking me to take her to Russia so she can play in the snow (thanks to Derek for that idea). She’s now running around the house yelling, “Russia! Russia!”
This little one is going to give us lots of storytelling repertoire, I can see it now.
*update* As soon as Jim walked in the door, she made her snow request known to him. His response? He filled a large cup with crushed ice, set her on the deck, and told her to play in the snow. She’s now sitting quietly playing with her snow.
Cheaper than a plane ticket to Russia.
