Yesterday was the first real snow of the season (yeah, I know it’s not technically winter until the 21st, but white stuff on the ground is reason enough for me to call it winter). I was in the middle of saying the Grace After Meals when I looked up and noticed big, fluffy flakes drifting to the ground. I got my kids’ attention and pointed to the window, and they were rightfully excited.
“Snow! Snow! It’s snowing! It’s winter! It’s December! It’s snoooooooowing! We can have a snowball fight! Hooray!”
That’s a fairly accurate representation of their reaction.
It was a busy day for us, what with trying to set up a Skype date with Bubby, and a new clarinet student due to start, despite the snow (yes, I may be starting to teach again, but on a very, very minimal basis. Like one student minimal). So getting those kids out into the snow was maybe a mid-priority kind of activity. Plus, I had no idea where any of their snow gear was, or if I even had any snow gear for them. I mean, we live in Baltimore, which, coming from Cleveland, I didn’t quite associate with snowy winters, so I hadn’t rushed out to buy boots and pants and all that.
But after the lesson (during which they were happily playing some educational computer games, thankfully), I felt that it would be a shame if I didn’t let them frolic around in the snow. It was the first snow of the year. And really, what else was I doing? Dishes? Laundry? Facebook? Continue reading