My sister-in-law and son, this past Sunday, built a killer snowman. As I watched from the warmth of the living room, through the large plate-glass sliding doors, I couldn’t help but be amazed at the quality of snow falling from the Belgian sky. Don’t be mad at me though. I fell off my bike last week and was nursing a bum knee (a likely story).

I honestly thought that my snowman-building days (or at least watching others build snowmen) were over once I moved to Belgium last winter. I honestly thought that good quality snow for snowman-making was something we could only look forward to on our winter trips back to the US.

Pleasantly surprised is an understatement. I grew up playing in the snow — red fingers, icy feet, runny nose — so to see my son (who is 3) out there braving the wilds of nature to roll some frozen water around the yard was great.

Kudos to his aunt who did all the real work. She was the muscle behind it all. But I must say it took quite a bit of coaxing for her to create a 3-balled snowman; she was happy to make a short, fat two-baller. In the end, Mr. Dingledobe (ok, I just made up that name now) had 3 parts, a carrot nose, walnut eyes and buttons, and two sticks for arms.

I’ll post pictures as soon as they become available!

Yesterday, I took the family out to to see the steam engines. I don’t take them out much, but when I do…

We had a great time. And my son — a major Thomas & Friends fan — didn’t stop smiling all day. That was well worth the 10 euro price of admission.

The event was in Maldegem. We drove from Drongen up the E40 toward Brugges. The ride was about 30 minutes and both kids were fast asleep the entire time. Ahh… zen.

On to the steam engines: These things are much louder and smellier and dirtier than I imagined. And yes, I have spent time imagining what it would have been like taking a steam train into work very day. Now, I take the electric trains, which are reasonably quiet and clean.

At one point, my wife pointed out all the little black particles (not really sure what they were, maybe bits of coal or some byproduct from the steam) scattered on her and our daughter — sort of like steam engine dandruff you could say. I felt like a real bad dad for a bit. My poor daughter is only a few months old and here we are! Sprinkling her with coal jimmies.