When I was little, we used to do a snow dance to bring on the snow. My whole family loved snow and any mention of it had us giddy. Granted, both my parents were teachers, so they loved snow days for obvious reasons. Living in Baltimore, of course, snow wasn't as regular an occurrence as it is in Western Pennsylvania. But, we got our fair share. When we did get a good dumping, it was a huge celebration and the local news stations would literally talk about snow all day. (no other news was worthy.) Some of my fondest snow-filled memories involve walking to the local Pizza Hut for dinner as a family, after a long day of sled-riding and snowman building. My sister and I would follow my dad's footsteps in the snow, as he raced ahead of us. Once we found him, we'd pummel him with snowballs. Yup. There was nothing like a good snow day. So, I had grandiose ideas of what fun we were going to have in the snow this weekend with Julie.  I pictured her frolicking in the two feet of snow and relishing every minute of it. I guess I didn't really think it through. My little girl, who hates being cold or wet, wanted nothing to do with the waist-high snow. I think she stayed outside for a total of five minutes before she got frustrated with not being able to walk, and went back inside. I was so annoyed at her lack of enthusiasm for the winter wonderland, that I refused her hot chocolate, which of course had her in tears. I guess I over-reacted a bit, but I just couldn't imagine a kid not loving the snow. But, Scott brought me back to reality. "She's only 4," he said. "Did you really think she'd love two feet of snow that she couldn't move around in?" He was right. Maybe next year we'll have her sledding and building snow forts. Wishful thinking, right?