‘It’s snowing outside!’ my two-year-old son announces as we trudge through the white stuff. ‘It’s snowing outside!’ he says again, a few feet later, and once again a few feet after that. Normally the repetition would grate on my nerves. But not today. The innocent marvel in his little voice is catching, and I’m grinning ear to ear as the snowflakes continue to fall, each one flawless and unique. It’s hard to imagine a time when snow and colored lights and Santa Claus were novelties. But to my son they are.
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