The snow came down, and the neighborhood answered the call.
A snowman appeared, big, solid, standing tall.
A proper snowman.
But something wasnβt right.
The nose.
While his almost-4-year-old was off waging tiny wars against the snow, rolling, running, and launching himself into drifts, Ganz disappeared into the woods. No announcement. Just a man on a mission.
Because a snowman deserves the right nose.
Not just any stick. Not just any rock. Not something good enough. π§π΅π² πΌπ»π².
When Ganz returned. He had it.
π§π΅π² π£π²πΏπ³π²π°π π‘πΌππ².
The nose was placed.
The snowman was complete.
ππΌπ― π±πΌπ»π².
Discussion