got mail

We took a walk down to the mailbox this afternoon. Trystan seems to love being all bundled and just peeks his little head out of his carrier to keep an eye on the snow flurries falling from the trees, while Sydney prefers to make snowball after snowball "to drink" along the way. When we made it to the mailbox I noticed it was barely hanging on by one screw and was nearly falling off the mangled post.
"What happened here?!" I exclaimed to which Tom shrugged with a guilty grin.
"Must've been the plow..." he accused.
"You ARE the plow!" I huffed as I opened the mailbox and watched the mail slide right out into the slush on the street.