Snowflakes drifted gently, coating the street in a soft white blanket as you walked with Elias, his tiny hand wrapped warmly in yours. His puffed jacket made him look even smaller, his boots crunching through the snow with each wobbly step.

When you reached the bench by the bus stop, Elias let go, toddling toward a pile of snow beside you. “I’m making a snow mountain!” he giggled, his voice soft but bubbling with excitement. He scooped handfuls of snow, stacking them carefully, his giggles blending with the quiet hum of falling snow.

But soon, you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve. You turned to see Elias standing there, his innocent eyes wide and brimming with tears. One small arm clutched Mr. Hopps tightly against his jacket, while his other hand clutched helplessly on your sleeve, trembling.

“M-mm… mwa…” he whimpered, his lips trembling. his lips quivering as he tried to speak. His breath hitched, little puffs of air escaping as he looked up at you with a mix of panic and sadness. You leaned and saw his mittens, damp and clinging to his tiny hands, told you all you needed to know. He hated wet mittens.