The land of boots and hats and mittens and snowpants and so on and so on.
Sometimes, you cram the diaper bag and the backpack so full in the morning, with snowpants and mittens and diapers and sippy cups and wipes and whatever else it takes baby to survive while they're away from you, that it's overflowing so much that the zipper won't even close.
And then you schlep wiggly baby out to the car, with his bulging bag on your shoulder, at 6:45 am, in the pitch dark.
And sometimes, while you're away, and the sun is coming up, the skies open again, and it snows, again.
And then, when you come home at night, after the sun has come and gone, it's dark again.
And then you fire up the snow plow, and plow the driveway in the dark, because there is just no other choice.
(So it's not really spring, but we've had what you might refer to as a "spring thaw" in the past few days.)
And then the sun starts to beat you to the punch in the morning, the snow starts to melt.
And then one morning as you're leaving the house, you remember the overflowing bags, and the schlepping in the dark, and the wiggly baby in your arms, and you remember a blue sippy cup that once was part of the family that you thought had gone to daycare, but daycare didn't know what you were talking about.
And suddenly, you think to yourself "so that's what that mysterious noise was when I was clearing the driveway."
And "so that's where that sippy cup went."So long, blue sippy cup. RIP. We hardly knew ya!