“I’m going outside to make a snow angel.” Helga pulls on her boots and coils a scarf around her neck.
“No! You’ll ruin it. Don’t. Everything is so pretty and white.” Outside, the snow blanket glistens with pinpricks of moonlight. Untainted by footprints, the winter garden is immaculate.
“It’s going to melt, so what difference does it make?”
I press my nose against the cold window. “You always want to spoil things.” Bossy sister.
“I want to have fun, that’s not spoiling things.” Helga’s hat flops over her ears.
I fetch my boots. Helga’s exuberance won. It generally does.