This Just In From SoCal, The Land of Frozen Fruits & Nuts

It doesn't take much to impress my five-year-old son Mouth. A puny one-inch snowball comprised of five measly frost crystals will do the job, actually.

Well, impressed for a few moments, that is, until he's downright depressed. He cried when his micro frost ball melted in his hands, seconds after scraping it from the roof of his daddy's car.

I mean really cried. Make that bawled. A good, hard cry of despair and disappointment. All this from a kid who hardly ever cries, not even when he bust his elbow open Razor scootering.

He sprang from bed today to look out the window for frost, ice, any evidence that Southern California is indeed caught in an rare weather freeze front from the Arctic. Next thing I know, before I'd even had a chance to rub the sleep from my eyes, I see my bed-headed blonde son out on the front lawn in his jammies, his breath turning into puffs of frosty air, combing our putting green style grass with his fingers, scraping frost like a man obsessed.

After calling him in and forcing him to don an over stuffed winter coat, I heard something strange on the kitchen radio. A booming voice over artist declared: "A blizzard in Malibu?! Snow in surf land?! We'll have more on the strange site, coming up on the news."

I'm sorry, but I didn't know that four snow flakes and a sprinkling of frost qualified a blizzard. I wonder what my parents would think of the local news' Southern California "snow storm watch 2007," as they shovel their way out of the latest snow cloud dumping and cross their fingers that they have power through the next hour.

This also just sensationally in: The California Highway Patrol is conducting escorts for drivers not used to icy conditions who are slipping and sliding on ice from Castaic all the way up to Bakersfield. I admit, this is hilarious to me, a person who learned to drive in a snow bank hemmed ice rink of a parking lot in New Hampshire.

WTF? Didn't I move to Southern California to escape the harsh winters of New England?

Face it, my Southern California kid is just screaming to play in some serious snow. "You're mine, buddy," Mouth taunts his brother every day. "In a snow fight, you're mine. Mommy, when are we going to Big Bear Mountain? You promised."

They take turns in the morning blasting each other with morning breath mist in the chilly 7 a.m. air. But that's not nearly enough winter for them. They remember the most recent Winter Olympics and Sean White, aka The Flying Tomato, is still their hero.

Looks like I'm going to have to break out the long johns and make good on my snow-capped mountain promises. It's probably a good thing that I forget the feeling of frostbitten toes. Brrr. I'm shivering just thinking of it.

More later from the land of frozen fruits ... In the meantime, tell me what the weather is like in your ZIP code?

BTW - completely unrelated - Why is it that my children feel the need to strip down to their birthday suits whenever they need to sit on the toilet for a while?