Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

It is indeed snowing just a tiny bit in Houston. Snow showers, they call it. We have our heater on for only the second time. I do not like using the heater because I don't like how artificial and dry it makes the air seem. I also don't particularly like air conditioning because I think it's unnatural and uncomfortable to be so cold inside when it's so hot outside. I realize this makes me very odd. It's also meant big marriage compromises because men seem to prefer the air to be around 58 degrees Fahrenheit inside when it is hot outside.

Harper has always been very attentive to her stuffed dog, whose name started out as Wadsworth and who has since been renamed, and this list is in no way definitive: Jeff, Joshua, Toby, Millie, Sasha, Maddie, Chanel, Hank, Dada, Gracie, Levi, and today, Mimi. Jeff was in homage to her then-favorite Wiggle (the Wiggles fell very far out of her favor around 18 months ago when she got terribly frightened by the pirate, Captain Feathersword), Joshua was the husband's beloved childhood dog, and the others are dogs we meet out and about that particularly strike her fancy. Her attentions have become increasingly maternal (some might use the word 'smothering') the past month or so. She also hasn't mentioned the puppy in her tummy in awhile which might mean that she has actually given imaginary birth after an extremely uneventful labor. Today Mimi is diapered, pajama-ed (these were stolen from the poor Cabbage Patch baby who is tragically neglected), bootied, pantied, and, after I found it in the bottom of the laundry basket, encased in the little knit hat that was on Harper's head when she got back to me from her first bath at the hospital. When I was tucking her in just now, the hat slipped off and Harper asked if I could fix it. I tried just perching it on top of Mimi's ears but Harper insisted that it be pulled down to entirely cover her face. She looks kind of like a hostage. Or a bank robbing dog in a baby disguise.