I didn't build my first snowman until I was college. I was home for Christmas break and my bro-in-law, Andy, proclaimed he'd never made one. The realization that I'd never done so either dawned on me. Together we went out and made a plethora of snowmen to fill the voids in our childhood.
I tell you this to help paint the picture of how very little I played in the snow growing up. Sure, we had lots of it, but I didn't care much for getting bundled up to roll in the snow for a little while before getting it up my sleeves or down my neck. There is something special about having kids though; they bring to light joy in places, activities, and events that never seemed worthwhile beforehand.
Vincent was itching to get outside to play in the cold fluff. He wanted very badly to build a snowman, but Utah snow is not made for such things. We tried, and failed. Instead we turned to snow soccer. Watching Vince run after the ball was reminiscent of a puppy cantering around the frozen yard. And, since the little man was wearing his father's old snowsuit, I took a few mental pictures of what Paul must have looked like in the same red garb.