Category Archives: K

9 Inches

9 Inches

We got 9 inches of snow this weekend.

It started sometime late on Friday, and on Saturday we woke up to a winter wonderland.

Y’all woke up early and mom had both you girls out in the snow in your PJ’s and boots before I even got out of bed.

H, you and mom and I built a little snowman in the front yard and put sunglasses on her.

K, you came outside with us, but insisted on being held the entire time because you did not want to walk in the snow.

We all ventured out for takeout from Chuy’s and managed to keep the fire going all-day long.

Church got canceled on Sunday and we watched movies as the snow began to thaw, again, only leaving the house for an early lunch at Red Robin.

Sunday night after showers we drove around and looked at Christmas lights in the snow. 

We were gone for less than 30 minutes but both of you girls were asleep by the time we got home.

It was a good weekend.

I love you.

-Dad

First Horse

First Horse

K, you rode your first horse this weekend!

We went to the corn maze outside of Shallowater at “At’l Do Farms.”

It’s the same place we always go.

And a good thing we went too because, it turned out, it was the last day of the season.

It was windy and we were cold even bundled up in our jackets.

H, K and you rode the train with mom two times.

We stopped by and looked at the pigs and chickens. They ate like little robots, oblivious to our watching eyes.

For five dollars each – it was a miracle I happen to have cash – both you girls got to ride your own horse around the pen for a few minutes. I tried to count, and I think they let you make five or six laps.

But the hit of the trip was everyone sharing some hot corn on the cob with a cold can of Coke.

We sat on a dusty bench and wiped our faces with brown napkins as we ate.

With a big space to be safe, and a little freedom from mom and dad, you both ran around like the wind.

I love you.

-Dad

Fuzz Bert

Fuzz Bert

K, I called you Fuzz Bert the other day.

I know that’s nothing in itself.

The main reason is that, well, I call you Fuzz Bert frequently.

Most often, I use it if your hair is particularly crazy – fuzzy – if you will.

This time, when I said it, however, you stopped.

You looked at me, shook your head, and in the most beautiful little voice said:

I not Fuzz Bert, I K.

My little angel.

I will gladly stop if you want me to.

Two is just the best age.

I love you.

-Dad