I watch her from my position in the front door. She is a pile of pink punctuating the white blanket covering the ground. She lay motionless, on her back, eyes turned toward the heavens, arms and legs splayed from her body in neat 45 degree angles. She maintains her position for a minute or so before standing up to inspect her handiwork. Pleased with her creation, she dances several steps to the side and flops down again. This routine continues, unchanged. Eventually she spies me, waves, and calls out, "I makedid 25 snow angels!" Sure enough, 25 small body prints lined the yard, side-by-side. 25 snow angels created by my little angel.