List: Satora-wolf, Xoxomtmodnarxoxo, Darkspine Sonic759, SilverDawn2010, and GalexiatheChao!

Thanks guys! Here's a little drabble I pulled together about Christmas and snow. I got the idea while looking at a comic strip of Calvin and Hobbes. In it, Calvin asks his Dad if he'll come outside and play with him in the snow. This is basically the Dash and Amy version of that same comic. I would give you a link, but I can't find it via online, so, sorry! Enjoy anyway, and onwards, march!


Chapter twenty-nine

Snow Fun

The boy was very, very excited. After all, the weatherman hadn't forecasted snow for today's weather, and he hadn't seen snow forever. It was even a lot, too! He guessed there might've been six inches of fresh powder, which beckoned to him to come out and play in it. Anxiously, he pulled his hat and gloves on, shrugged a coat onto his skinny body, and he was about to reach for the doorknob leading him out into pure bliss, when he stopped suddenly.

It'd be nice to have his two older sisters outside with him, he figured. They could help him build a snowman. But they were both off to school, the lucky ducks, and he huffed, realizing they wouldn't be home in time for his patience to not wear out. Slouching down to the ground by the door, he sighed, lonesome. Ever since the girls had gone off to school, he'd been so lonely. There had been no one at home for him to interrogate, to annoy, to play with, to even hug.

And then it hit him. His Mom was available! Maybe she'd like to come outside and play with him. Grinning from ear to ear, he pushed himself off the floor, and excitedly ran into the living room where his mother was reading a book peacefully by the small fire.

"Mom, Mom!" he cried, skidding to a halt in front of her. Glancing up, his mother smiled at him, and she set the book down on her lap, her fingers marking her page.

"What is it, Dash?" she asked.

"Will ya come out an' pway with me in t'e snow?" he pleaded, his eyes growing wide. "Pre''y please?" He watched as her smile faltered, and she glanced down at her book, then back at him.

"Well, honey, my book's just getting to the good part," she replied, biting her lip. "See, look, I'm almost done with the book. And that means I'm at the good part." She showed him her page number, and the child's smile slowly faded.

"So, you won't?" His voice was hardly above a whisper, and his gaze fell to the floor. His mother sighed.

"You'll have fun by yourself, honey," she spoke gently. "You're a big boy, right?"

"Right," he mumbled, but unlike other times she'd say those words to make him do something independently, his gaze didn't meet hers. Sighing, the boy shuffled off. "I'll be outside. Alone. In the cold."

"Have fun," she said, guilt gnawing at her, but still she did not get up and follow him outside. As she had told the child, her book had finally decided to get interesting, the first time in two hundred pages. She couldn't just put the book down now, just to go freeze her tail off so her son would be happy. No, Dash would be okay, she figured, and with that thought in mind, she picked her book back up and began to read.

But after trying to understand the first sentence five times, she sighed and looked towards the window.

Outside lay probably six inches of fresh snow, messed up only by Dash's few footprints. Spotting her son, she watched him as he rolled together some snow, attempting the beginning of a snowman. She smiled at him warmly as he struggled to pack the snow together, failing in the end, and she watched him kick the snow irritably, impatient with it already.

Before she knew what she was doing, she set the book down, reached for her coat and mittens, and opened the front door, walking calmly towards the irked child, who leaned against a tree, contemplating his next plan of attack on the snow.

"You could always do it this way," she advised him, and Dash looked up, perplexed at seeing his mother outside and not inside reading her book. He watched with wonder as her two hands gathered together a small ball of snow, gently yet firmly squashing it all together. "See? Nothing to it." She showed him the ball of snow, no bigger than an average snowball, and the boy grinned.

"'ike this?" he asked, and he reached out with two gloved hands for a pile of snow, shoving it all together. His grip being too hard, the snow fell apart easily, sliding through his hands, and the boy sighed.

"Try it like this," Amy said gently, and she took his two hands in hers, noting the size difference only vaguely as she made him scoop up some of the white powder. Gently she had him mesh the snow together, until it formed a sloppy snowball. "See? Not too hard is it?" The boy shook his head, giggling.

"This is cool!" he exclaimed joyfully. Looking up at his mother, his grin turned into a smirk as he suddenly raised his arm, and threw the snowball right at her.

"Dash!" Amy cried, wiping the snow from her face, only to see a hysterical boy laughing beside her. "Oh, you think this is funny do you?" She reached down onto the ground and quickly formed another snowball, aimed, and sent it swirling at Dash. Hitting him square in the stomach, the boy whined pitifully, laughter ringing in the cold afternoon air, and he struggled to get up as Amy sent more and more snowballs his way.

"No fair!" he giggled as he rushed away. Quickly, using his speed to his advantage, he built a snow fort to block the incoming snowballs, and anxiously he began to try and make a snowball just like his mother had showed him. Miraculously, it worked, and the boy sent it spiraling towards his mother, who by now had discovered her son's fort and was rushing towards it to knock it down. "Take that!" he cried out competitively, pumping a fist in the cold air as the snow hit its mark.

"You're going down!" she laughed, and upon reaching his fort, she jumped over its two-foot wall, and reached for the startled boy, who zipped out of her grasp just in time.

"Try an' catch me!" he cried as he ran off. She rolled her eyes, knowing that even as a three year old Dash was too fast for her, and she waited for him to come back and run around her, sending snow in all directions. When he did two seconds later, she reached out into the snow and wind, and somehow amazingly grabbed the surprised child around his waist, causing him to slip and fall.

'Caught you!" she cried out triumphantly, and immediately she set out on tickling the boy, who's giggling only encouraged her to continue despite his protests.

Anxious to be free, Dash wiggled with all his might, and finally managed to get free from his mother's grasp. He let out a joyful cry before he raced away again, hoping to have enough time to make another snowball for his Mom. But instead:

"Alright, Dash, you win. Whatta say we call a truce an' start making a snowman?"

The boy shrugged and walked over to his Mom to shake her hand, eyeing her suspiciously lest she make any wrong moves. When she didn't, he brightened, liking the idea of making a snowman with her. Grinning, he immediately set to work, allowing Amy to help him smash the snow together until it formed three large balls of snow, which made up the snowman's body.

"I'll find some pebbles for his face and two arms, and you can go get a carrot from the refrigerator," Amy planned, and the boy nodded before rushing back to the warm house. He was careful not to get a lot of snow or mud inside the house before grabbing the snowman's orange nose from the fridge, and he raced back outside to see his Mom working on the snowman's arms.

"Got it!" he cried out excitedly. Without a word, Amy finished her job, and then picked up young Dash. Gently, Dash reached out to stick the carrot into the snowman's face. He giggled as he let go of the orange carrot, and Amy set him back down on the cold ground, where they stood back and looked at their creation.

"It's still missing one thing," Amy mused, and she took off her hat, placing it on the three foot tall snow creature. She took a step back, admiring the snowman. "What should we call him?" she asked the boy, who stood by her, for once not objecting to holding her hand, but welcoming it.

"Blizz," he answered, nodding his head firmly, confirming his choice. "I' sounds 'ike bliss, which is how snow makes me 'eel, and i's 'ike blizzard."

"That's a deep name, Dash," Amy verified. "Where did you pick up the word bliss?"

"Dad," the boy answered. He reached out a gloved hand, smoothing down the snowman's midsection. So gentle, Amy mused. He was being so gentle.

"What did he say about the word bliss?" she asked, still confused over the boy's remarkable vocabulary. After all, he was only three years old.

"He saidz you's 'ike bliss," he replied, and he continued stroking down the snowman as Amy blinked in surprise. Sonic referred to her as bliss? To a three year old? "Mama, cwan we make Blizz a friend?" Amy blinked, forcing herself to register back into the real world.

"Sure," she answered him, smiling down at the boy in front of her. It occurred to her suddenly, however, that she hadn't wanted to come outside in the first place. Inside sat an unfinished book, a dwindling fire to attend to, supper to start preparing…But one look at Dash's overjoyed face led her to continue, saying, "And while we're at it, we can make him a whole family."

And suddenly Dash was whooping and hugging her knees, giggling so zealously that Amy wondered if he would start running around in circles next. But then he let go of her, and he immediately began packing together snow. Smiling, the mother bent down next to her son, packing the snow along with him.

It wasn't like her book had to be turned into the library tomorrow. And if need be the family could have leftovers for supper. But Dash…he wouldn't stay this way forever, she realized. Already he was a child who preferred his freedom to his mother's hugs, and though Amy didn't mention it much to Sonic, she missed the days when the boy would randomly come up and hug her, say he loved her.

An hour later, three more snowmen had been made, in all two females and two males, according to Dash. By then, the sun was starting to set, and Amy knew the rest of the family was due home any minute. Half frozen, the mother and son raced each other back to the house, Dash winning by a long shot, and he giggled manically as Amy unlocked the door to the house. Immediately the two were hit by a wave of warmth. Struggling to take off his mittens, Amy helped the boy remove his winter clothing, and once done she had him sit down on the couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around his small frame. Hot chocolate soon sat before both of them, and Dash took periodic cautious sips of the warm liquid as he chatted to his mother about this and that, glad for her undying attention, for it certainly didn't occur every day. The fire, now restored, cast shadows in the darkening room, and Dash yawned frequently, his afternoon nap having been skipped for the sake of the snowmen.

"Mama?" he asked suddenly, his eyes growing heavier by the minute. Without warning he crawled across the couch, filling in the space between himself and Amy, and he cuddled up next to her. Confused, Amy blinked in surprise, before she gently began scratching behind his ears. It was a gesture of love she'd often used on the boy before, when he was too tired to resist her touch, and she was grateful for his weariness as he settled, sighing in relaxation. "Mama?" he repeated, although by now his voice was muffled. "Why'd ya come outside with me? Iz thought you was readin'n."

"I was," she answered calmly, quietly, not wanting to arouse him. "But I knew I could finish reading later." A silence followed for a minute.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

Dwid ya have fun?"

"Yes, Dash," she replied as her fingers continued scratching his ears lovingly. "Yes, I had a lot of fun."

The boy let it go at that, and he sighed again, content. Vaguely, he knew his mother stroked his ears, but he had no desire to push her hand away like he normally would. For once he was happy to just lie there, let his eyes close and dreamland conquer him.

His last thought before he completely surrendered to sleep revolved around snowmen, mittens, a cold nose, and warm hot chocolate with his mother beside a fire. And then he let go, smiling gleefully. This was what the season of winter was all about, he figured.