The Snow King

 It was a cold, cold, day.  Brendan took Brixton sledding, leaving me alone in the house for about 45 minutes.  I was so lost, I could only wait for their return by standing next to the window and looking out anxiously.  After that initial period of 5 seconds passed, I was fine.  Thank goodness.

Upon their arrival home, I took Brixton in and set him up on the couch under two blankets and a cup of hot cocoa (which he despised, not just didn't like, despised).  Brendan was busy outside doing something for the longest time and when I eventually looked out to make sure he hadn't wandered into a distant snowdrift, I saw that he was hard at work at the construction of a snow throne.

"Honey, that's so sweet!" I called from the door.  "Do you think it will hold me up?"  I was already envisioning the pictures, especially the ones with me wearing the sparkly diamond encrusted tiara.

Alas, it was for Brixton, who didn't appreciate it much.  I don't think wearing a crown even crossed his mind!  What crossed his mind?  Get me the heck off of this thing. Children are so not appreciative. 

On the bright side, if Brendan's job doesn't work out down the line, I think he's definitely got a future in snow sculptures.