My three-year-old granddaughter, Micah, has finally experienced enough snow to make a snowman.
Two snowmen, in fact. Five weeks apart.
The first snow really wouldn’t pack, so we ended up with a little heap of snowdwarf. It was cute and we loved it anyway (see the photo on To Life and Lafo).
The second snow packed beautifully. Micah’s artistic big sister, Scout, took over as snowman engineer and designer, rounding the body and deciding what to use for facial features.
Micah said, “The snowman needs a hat!” She chose the Santa hat from the toybox I keep for the girls. In her words, the “Ho-Ho hat.”
And here you have it. Our merry friend:
That night, as I put our exhausted Micah to bed, she kept stalling.
She fights going to sleep, has always been a restless sleeper. She asks for songs: Frère Jacques. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. She chats about a boy at daycare and calls him “my brother.” She says he’s going to the beach and she wishes she could go, too.
“All right, Micahroni,” I say at last. “It is time to sleep now.”
She twists around, lies still, and is silent for a moment. She looks at the ceiling, the wall. Her eyes are heavy.
Then those big eyes are on me. “We forgot the Ho-Ho hat! It’s outside!”
“Yes, but it’s okay. The snowman can wear the hat tonight. We can get it tomorrow.”
That seems a sufficient response, for she’s quiet again.
Then: “Franna.”
“What, Micah?”
“I don’t want the snowman to melt.”
“He won’t melt tonight, honey. It’s very cold outside. He’ll still be there tomorrow.”
She looks at me earnestly. Deep brown eyes, rosy cheeks.
“I don’t want his face to melt,” she says.
I murmur something soothing, I think, but my mind isn’t on my words.
It’s on the workings of her little mind, already understanding the temporary nature of things, fearing loss…yes, it’s just a snowman. But its face reflects humanity. She cares about it and knows, at three, it cannot last.
I stay with her until she drifts off to sleep and her breathing grows loud.
And then I go to bed myself, praying, I confess, for the snowman not to melt the next day while she’s staying with me… because childhood and life itself are so short. They melt away so soon.
When she goes home, the snowman is still in the backyard, joyful as ever, twig-hands raised in praise, undiminished.
I remember to rescue the Ho-Ho hat. She will remember asking. She remembers everything.
I hope she always will.
*******
with thanks to two Writing Teachers for the March Slice of Life Story Challenge
Discover more from lit bits and pieces
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
lit bits and pieces 
This is such a precious slice! I love your observations of Micah growing up. It happens too fast.
LikeLike
Oh Franna! So many special moments and memories caught in this slice. So much love and appreciation for what’s here now for celebrating. So much respect for Micah and her understanding of the world. Love this post. It could be a picture book called the Ho-Ho Hat.
LikeLike
Precious time together and so many thoughtful questions. It is so nice that children are enjoying their childhood.
LikeLike
You always manage to take that slice a little further with lines like- “because childhood and life itself are so short. They melt away so soon.” Wow! So much power in those lines. So glad you captured the moment in words … and the picture of the snowman!
LikeLike
What a perfect slice about two wonderful granddaughters.
It almost made me wish we had snow over here, so that I could make a snowman with my grandchildren (but not quite!). Such a brilliant snowman (and I love the snowdwarf description!) And yes, childhood and life are really just too short.
LikeLike
Fran, what a precious post! The snowman is really quite handsome! It’s wonderful that you have such a close relationship with your granddaughters.
LikeLike
Fran, what a lovely story. Your granddaughter’s compassion for the snowman shows the compassion she feels towards others. Glad the snowman was still there in the morning for her
LikeLike
What a sweet slice, Fran. The littlest ones often give us the biggest pause, don’t they. I am happy Micah got to experience snowman building.
LikeLike
This is such a precious piece. You took my breath away. I’m so glad you wrote it down, now it will stay in the world forever.
LikeLike
The feeling of such tender love and care is palpable here. It’s precious that she does not want that face to melt. I’m glad you got a picture. Now that face will never melt – – she can see the picture every day and remember the moments of making it.
LikeLike
Such a sweet memory to pen, Fran. I remember being in awe of what my children soaked up at that age, the thoughts they had. My son cried one night because he missed my mother, who passed two years before he was even born. Littles can have mighty big feelings.
LikeLike