I grew up on a farm in northwest Iowa. We ALWAYS had a white Christmas. I distinctly remember every Christmas Eve, the snow sparkling under the yard light like diamonds. My dad would take us all out to the barn to feed the cattle and milk the cows, while my mom stayed inside. Santa came to our house on Christmas Eve... and each year while we were outside in the snow, he would drop off the gifts. We would come in the house after chorse and my mom would be "asleep" on the couch. She didn't notice the jolly ole elf that snuck in and delivered our presents!
Fast forward... now I'm the mom and my little ones, Josie-8 and Jake-6 are waiting on Santa. We live in Kansas, not NW Iowa. This week, we were watching the forecast and I told the kids that it didn't look like we were gonig to get any snow for Christmas. Josie seemed ok with it, but my little Jake, looked at me and said, "Mom, we really aren't going to have snow?" I told him no. He ran to me and broke into tears, sobbing. It was so sweet and innocent. I had to smile, realizing just how lucky we were to always have a white Christmas.