We all flopped back into the billowy snow with a welcoming whoomp. After dragging our arms and legs through the thick, white medium we three revelers struggled to our feet amid giggles and chortles of glee. Dusting ourselves off we turned to examine our art.

Dillan cocked his head to one side examining mine, “How did you do that?” We all looked. I couldn’t explain.

“It’s cool,” Gary added, “But I don’t see how you made it look like a tail.”

“I didn’t,” I said firmly, “I just flopped and waved!”

“Are those horns?” Dillan asked in a dawning sense of concern.

“Couldn’t be,” I scoffed. A wind whipped up and seemed to mock my protestation.

“They are,” Gary said almost in awe, then, “Dude, you made a snow devil!”

“Did not! It’s just a really bad snow angel.” I was starting to worry.

Dillan blinked a few times, scratched his head through his beanie, and asked in all seriousness, “What does your dad do again?”

I kind of figured now was a bad time to mention I was adopted. Yeah, bad time.