The scene: My front yard. Covered in 3 feet of virgin snow. The 2 year old is contentedly making snow pies in the corner. Such things do not amuse the 5 year old.
B: Hey mom, I’m gonna get ya with a snowball!
Me: Kind of wrecks it if you warn me first, but go hard.
(Doof! Snow to the back.)
Me: Ooh, you twerp, I’m gonna get you!
B: (giggles, and bends over to form his own snowball)
(Throw my little snowball, without looking, before I’ve stood up. Probably should have looked.)
B: AHHHH!! (Runs, screaming, with a face completely full of snow.) I can’t BREATHE!!!
Me: (Wiping him off, making sure his mouth and nose are clear.) Oh god! I’m so, so sorry honey.
B: (Stares with big eyes, says nothing.)
Me: Are you going to be OK? Would it make you feel better to hit me in the face with snow?
B: No, mom. I’d never want you to feel like this.