While we were in Santa Fe, we headed up the mountain into the Santa Fe National Forest.
Our snowsledding discs from three years ago still worked great (since they are, after all, practically new, living in Texas).
Can you tell this native Texan was excited with the snow?!?!?!
We drove all the way to the top of the mountain (where Santa Fe Ski is located), and we would stop every mile or so when we would find a new, better place to sled.
Sometimes they didn't even break out the sleds.
Those ski pants and boots from Granny were VERY handy.
In real, into-your-ankles deep snow.
Snow so fluffy you could cuddle up with it (if you wanted to, crazy Alex).
Alex even started to build a snowman, but that idea didn't last too long.
But the best place for sledding, bar none, was our final destination.
The sheer number of cars stopped alongside the road was testament to how great is was.
We spent hours upon hours here.
These boys could not have been happier.
For the most part, Carl and I were content to just sit back and enjoy our kids being kids.
But it wasn't long before the snow fun became contagious, and before you knew it, Carl decided he had to get in on the fun, too.
Which meant putting his name of Danger Daddy to the test because anyone weighing more than a hundred pounds really shouldn't be on these sledding discs.
Getting them to slow down and pose for a picture was near impossible.
They just wanted to run back up the hill, as fast as possible.
And do it all over again.
It was priceless, and will go down as one of my all-time favorite family memories.