Farewell to Frosty

It is with a bittersweet mix of emotions that we gather today to pay our respects to one who has brought great winter joy to three little boys. Yes, on this, the next-to-last day of February--and the end of a three-month period of cold, snowy, icy weather here in the northern Ozarks--we bid adieu (we hope) to Frosty the Snowman.

Beenie, Heero, Zoomie, and I wish him nothing but the best as we watch him go thumpity-thump-thumping his way over the hills of snow and out of our lives, at least for a while. It is time for him to move on to a place where he can be more--well--appreciated. Our spirit of hospitality for substances cold and white is waning a bit. Around here, we are ready for spring.

Don't get me wrong--we loved having Frosty around at first. He was a great playmate for Heero, Beenie, and their neighbor friend as he joined them for some front-yard games. He never started a fight or broke a rule, and remained cool under all circumstances.

Then, he certainly proved inspirational as he came to life on Zoomie's breakfast plate on New Year's morning, complete with bacon arms and strawberry buttons. Frosty, it turns out, is nothing if not versatile.

Finally, Beenie captured Frosty's jolly, happy soul in this mixed-media piece displayed on the bulletin board outside his first-grade classroom.

Accompanying this realistic likeness were directions for building a snowman, which, in Beenie's own handwriting and vocabulary, went like this:

1. Make three ball's out of snow.
2. Add tow eye's made out of coal.
3. Add a carit for the nose.
4. Add a hat.
5. Add coal for the mowth.

Certainly, Frosty, your magical presence brightened our winter with a blast of fun and a spark of creativity. We know that you are not merely a fairy tale, as rumored, and that you came to life for many kids just as you did for these boys.

But Frosty, you should probably head for the streets of some town very far north of here and do some dancing around up there. March is just a day away, and, with our greatest blessing, it is time for you to go.

Double Digits

On Saturday morning Pooh came into the guest bedroom where I had been sleeping. It was unusually early for a boy who, more often than not, is the last one up. Neither of us had been awake very long.

"Good morning," I said to him, and "Happy birthday!" Groundhog Day had rolled around again, and with it another birthday for Pooh. Quite unbelievably, he has now reached double digits.

"How does it feel to be 10?" I asked, whereupon he informed me that he wouldn't officially clock in as a year older until 1:57 that afternoon. That was fine with me. He and all the kids, for that matter, are growing up way too fast to suit me.

Pa-pa and I make it a priority to spend birthdays with all the grandkids if possible, and so far our record is pretty impressive. True to form, we had made the 3+-hour car trip the previous day.

We also like to make sure that even the siblings of the birthday kid get a small present. Since Pooh's birthday falls less than two weeks before Valentine's Day, our February trip always includes valentines as well. As fast as these kids are growing up, we figure we can't afford to squander any good opportunity to spoil them further. We consider it our duty as grandparents, and we take our calling seriously.

So in spite of the fact that all four kids were battling a benign little winter fever-bug, we had celebrated Pooh's imminent tenth birthday on the night before the actual event. We started off after dinner with a red velvet cake,

which served as appropriate precursor to the unveiling of the presents.

Here, Pooh is opening his package of nine Star Wars miniature figures, to be followed by a Nerf gun (which required Pa-pa, me, and You Tube to assemble), and a pair of night-vision spy goggles. Then, disguised as SpongeBob, Pooh and his siblings lined up for a photo shoot in the silly character heads I got for a pittance at our local Walmart's Halloween clearance sale.

At this point I fast-forward back to our morning in the guest bedroom, where we had been joined by the other three kids. As you might imagine, that is pretty much a bed full. But it is always a favorite thing that we do, whether at my house or theirs--our pre-breakfast powwow where they want me to tell all the old stories again or take turns making up funny jokes, games, or songs.

Finally, about the time the close quarters become not so congenial, we wander into the kitchen for breakfast, and this time, at the birthday boy's decree, it consisted of bacon, scrambled eggs, and monkey bread.

Shortly after the clock chimed 1:57, Pa-pa and I were on the road home, recalling the events of the weekend and talking, Pooh, about how glad we are to have you. In you, we have an effusive fountain of wit and charm. You are musical, theatrical, and a quick-as-lightning soccer player. This summer, Pa-pa and I want to teach you how to catch fish and to water ski.

I'm betting that double digits are going to be a lot of fun for all of us.