First you happily accept a gently used pink fleece hat, when you learn you are pregnant with your third child and you have already donated your old baby clothes, from either your neighbor or playgroup friend or your girlfriend that moved South but you can't remember anymore. It doesn't matter where it originated because when it magically appears in the plastic bin labeled "Winter Clothes" you shout with glee at the money you saved when you place it on top of the third child's head.
Second you send your husband to preschool drop off on his day off in October and he comes home bearing gently used purple mittens from someone named Michelle or Elle or maybe it was Shellie. The precious mittens that once were Nicole's, or Maggie's, or even Kiera's are now placed upon two little eager hands of your third child.
Third you dig around in your crawl space and pull out boy's black 3T snow bibs of the highest quality that were purchased for your first born child years ago. You alter the bibs, pin the straps back, and fold the legs up to fit a 20 month old. Or maybe she's 21 months old. Oh vey. She is already 22 months old.
You return to the crawl space this time with three anxious children fully dressed for winter fun and search around for boots. Not quite sure what size of shoes the child actually wears you guesstimate by pressing her foot to the back of each boot. Brown boots. Purple boots. Boots with fur. Boots for rain. Finally finding a pair of pink boots with faux fur that "look" as if they fit, you gently stuff her feet inside after a quick tickle and a kiss.
And that is how, my friends, you dress a third child for the snow.
It might be a gently used pony. But a pony nonetheless.