Max was sitting on the potty, yelling in that half-asleep moan that reminded us why there is an old adage that says to never wake a sleeping baby—or overly exhausted four year old. The snow was falling steadily outside. Lizzie was squirming and yelping with an obvious desire to match her brother’s screams decibel-for-decibel as I stuffed her back into her fleece bunting (for the fourth time tha...
