Avila had been waiting and waiting for a big snowfall. Mrs. Norris had read Avila’s class from a book about a boy who’d made a snowman. Now Avila wanted more than anything to make a snowman!

As she munched her cereal one Saturday morning, she watched the thick snowflakes through the kitchen window. “How do I make a snowman?” she asked her mothers.

“First,” Mom said, “you roll three snowballs—a big, then a bigger snowball.”

“The third snowball is the biggest of all.” Mama stretched her arms wide to show how big it could be.

Avila knew just what to do next. “Then,” she said, “I’ll stick the snowballs on top of each other.”

“Right!” her mothers said together.

“Here.” Mom took some black buttons out of the sewing box and gave them to Avila. “These are for your snowman’s eyes and mouth.”

Mama took a long carrot out of the refrigerator and handed it to Avila. “This can be a nose,” she said.

Avila put them in her coat pocket. She buttoned her snuggly blue coat. Then she slipped into her fuzzy blue mittens, and pulled on her shiny black boots. As soon as she opened the back door, falling snowflakes tickled her cheeks.

“It’s a perfect snowman day!” Avila smiled at the snowy sky.

Then Avila’s boots crunch-crunch-crunched in the snow. The snow had fallen so high that only the red tips of her sled stuck up out of the whiteness.

Avila dug her hands into the deep snow. She rolled three snowballs on the ground—one big, one bigger, and one the biggest of all. She put the two smaller balls on top of the biggest one. Patting down the snow, Avila made the snowman round. The snowman was even taller than Avila!

She reached inside her pockets for the buttons and carrot. She stuck all of the buttons on the snowman’s face—two buttons for eyes and four for its smiling mouth. Avila planted the carrot, with its orange tip sticking out, in the middle of the snowman’s face. She picked up two branches and stuck them into both sides of the snowman for his arms.

Then, she heard crunch-crunch-crunch and turned around. Her mothers were walking across the snowy yard. Mama held a bright red scarf and Mom held a top hat.

Mama said, “We thought these might work for your snowman.”

Avila wrapped the scarf around the snowman’s neck. Then, she had an idea. “Does this have to be a snowman?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Mom asked.

“Aren’t there any snowwomen in the world?” Avila wondered aloud.

“There must be snowwomen somewhere,” Mom said.

“Maybe this could be a snowwoman.” Avila said.

“That sounds like a great idea.” Mama said.

Just then, Avila had another idea. “Wait!” she said.

She ran into the house and looked way in the back of the hall closet. She found a fuzzy hat with a red felt flower that didn’t fit her anymore.

Then Avila crunch, crunch, crunched in the snow to where her mothers stood in the yard. Avila set the new hat on top of the snowball head.

“Avila,” Mom picked up a branch, “can we break this up for eyelashes?”

“Yes!” Avila liked the idea.

So they broke the branch into eight small sticks and stuck four over each of the two button eyes.

“Those sure look like eyelashes,” Avila said.

They laughed at the funny, snowy face.

“Now we have a snowwoman right here!” Avila said. Her first grade teacher had taught her a lot of good stuff. But it was her mothers who had taught her how to think up her own great ideas!