Ever chased your kid through a snow-squall, both of you half-frozen, him giggling like a maniac while you curse the flimsy hoodie that betrayed you? Yeah, me too—last winter, picture this: I'm knee-deep in a Michigan blizzard knockoff (blame the Midwest wife), hauling a squirming five-year-old whose "winter armor" was basically a trash bag with sleeves. Disaster. That's when it hit...
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