Complaints of an Eldest Child: Snow!

Mom and I had just finished a chick flick late at night, and we decided to take just one last look at Facebook. (Famous last words, right?) One of her friend's status was about "it's snowing, and I wouldn't have known had I not logged on to good ol' FB". So we were like hmmm, let's take a look outside. Sure enough, the deck was covered and lacy snowflakes were still falling. Racing back to the computer we typed in "Ditto! That just happened to us!!".
So the next morning, sleds were unearthed, patched up, and filled with air. Coats were buttoned, scarves wound around necks, and boots pulled onto feet. At the last minute, I couldn't find any gloves that would fit me. The only ones that were left were a very small glove and a big pink glove. And the Great Glove Fight began. Each person explained in depth why they of all people could not give up their gloves; then they all questioned why couldn't someone else give up their gloves; at the same time bemoaning the fact that today of all days I couldn't find any and was I sure I had looked hard enough; you get the picture. Eventually we arrived at a solution: Suzy gave John one of her mittens in exhange for the small glove I had found; John gave me one of his gloves; I gave Britt the big pink glove in exchange for one of her gloves, and we were all happy.
The next two days were spent racing down the tracks, giving Bob the snowman a makeover, and screaming at the top of our lungs. The only thing that slightly marred our enjoyment was Rizzo. He never could figure out that we were having fun; he kept trying to catch us and stop us when we were sledding. Silly boy, but what else can you expect of a dog who dips his nose in the snow, then licks it to get a drink? He did look magnificent against the white snow, though.
A funny incident happened when I was sledding down the hill. Britt pushed me off before John could get out of the way, so I shot down the hill and bumped into him. Naturally he fell down, and by some weird reflex clutched the handle. I continued on my merry way screaming, with my arms flailing, and John dragging behind. He held on all the way to the bottom. Later Britt said it looked like I was dragging him by his head.