Conversation about Snow

At the breakfast table.

My daughter, wearing bright yellow with pink flowers, two sizes too big rain boots: I got snow boots!

My son: Those aren't snow boots. those are rain boots!

This devolved into an argument about the true nature of the boots, then evolved to a discussion of where snow comes from.

Daughter: Snow comes out of the grass.

Son: NO! Snow comes from the sky.

Daughter: From the GRASS!

Son: From the garage.  Daddy's garage.   It's not your garage. 

Me: Nope.  It's Daddy's garage.

Son: But Daddy can share.

So there you have it.  Snow is all my husband's fault because it comes out of his garage.