We're new in town. We don't have a lot of friends yet. It snowed Monday and my poor, snow-deprived children thought they had won the lottery. We went sledding and built a snowman. And Tuesday, when our snowman had melted enough to tip over, they turned to plain old shoveling. This is when things got a little weird.
Have you met my friend Zon, mom?
Ethan asks, holding up a small crystallized bit of snow.
Um, no. Nice to meet you Zon.
It's like Jon, but with a z.
Elliot, watching with fascination and awe at his brother's social prowess, quickly searches out his own bit of snow.
Mommy! Did you meet my friend Shoveler?
Pleased to meet you as well, Shoveler.
Later Ethan put Zon in a little snow cave and covered him up. When he went to retrieve him with his shovel, he couldn't determine which bit(s) of snow had been Zon.
Did you smash your friend with a shovel?
No. Well, yes. But he'd already had hypothermia, so he already died.
It appears that kindergarteners in Michigan learn early about the dangers of hypothermia. Perhaps they should also discuss death by snow shovel.
For the record, Shoveler met a similar fate (as did New Zon and New Shoveler, as well as Tuesday's incarnations: Trucky and Truck Driver).
We need friends.
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