Drew enjoys the snow. Photo taken earlier this month.
As we make our way out to the car, I can't help marveling at the spectacular crisp cold morning. Half an inch of soft snow limns the trees, the sky is bluest blue, the sun is beginning to tip the mountainsides with gold.
"What a beautiful morning," I say aloud as I help Drew into the car.
"It's a beautiful sunny day," he agrees. This is one of his stock phrases; I think he got it from the narrator on Pocoyo.
"Thank you, God, for this beautiful morning!" I say, because that's how I roll.
"Thank you God for the snow," Drew adds.
I'm charmed, so I reply with another blessing. "Thank you God for my coffee." M'chayyei ha-meitim, I think: blessed are You who enlivens the dead.
Drew isn't finished either. "Thank you God for the trees!"
"Right on," I agree, thinking of Tu BiShvat which will be in a few days. "The trees are pretty awesome."
We drive a bit. Drew eats his waffle. I sip my coffee.
"Thank you God for the earth which is sleeping," I say, as we drive past the snow-covered stubble of a cornfield.
"Thank you God for Daddy," Drew says, getting into it now. "Thank you God for my coat! and my shoes!"
"For the clothes we get to wear, yeah, absolutely," I agree. He doesn't know that thanking God Who clothes the naked is part of our liturgy of standard morning blessings, but I do, and it makes me grin.
There's a pause. I think it's my turn. "Thank you God for me and Drew being together," I offer.
Drew's face crinkles into a smile. "Mommy," he chides, "that's silly."
"Okay," I agree, but I'm thinking: maybe to you, kiddo, but not to me.