On Sunday night, I read Butterbean the beloved book, The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats. By the next morning the ground in East Atlanta was covered with four beautiful inches of snow.
We made snowy memories.
Drank hot chocolate. Snuggled on the couch. Played outside.
And marked every single thing off of Annika's Snowy Day agenda.
Drew snowy pictures with our new window crayons.