“Meet me in the backyard when you finish your hot chocolate,” I said, and dashed out the front door. The boys were already ensconced before a Sponge Bob episode. So, while I was primed and ready to work on my next novel idea, I decided it was more important to seize the moment and to spend some quality time with my eight and five-year-old sons by building a colossal snowman in our backyard. They should earn that hot chocolate after hours of sledding the heavy, damp snows on our considerable hills. The kids were back in faster than it took to bundle them up. Sadly, eating snow is a lost pastime, but others should live on. We weren’t up to date on things like acid rain back then-not in Morgantown-and my mother would put Nestle Quik strawberry flavoring and voila! Delicious strawberry flavored snow. I threw snowballs, pondered icicles, licked them, and even brought in snow to eat. I did the full array: built snowmen, igloos, and snow angels. When I was five in Morgantown, we’d bundle me up to play outside all morning. Should I drink that acid snow disguised with fake strawberry flavoring?
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