Surviving a snow day is 99% impassivity and 1% irascibility.
It’s after 1pm, so the longest haul is behind us. Snow days, while completely delightful for The Who, are pretty much torture for me. I don’t enjoy staying inside all day, especially when I am forced to. There’s nothing charming about this snow (I mean, ok, it is the prettiest snowfall we have had this winter) and I don’t own any waterproof garments, so there’ll be no going outside in it. I can’t say I even know where The Who’s snowpants are, so sending him out alone into the yard to wander around like only an only child does isn’t going to happen either. He’s currently building a “bridge” out of pillows and blankets and boxed board games. I always thought that that thing about how onlies learn to occupy themselves was a load of crap; my kid needs an audience. But as it turns out, necessity is the father of invention (What? Is that a thing? Did I make that up?) and he’s actually pretty damn good at making the hours tick by. He played some piano. We made oobleck. There was lunch in there somewhere. (He still talks to us the whole time he’s playing “alone,” though. “Mommy? Pretend this is the busiest New York City bridge and, like, there are so many cars and trucks going across and pretend there is a cop on one side and pretend the bridge has a light on one side and all the people have to go across. Pretend that, Mommy, ok Mommy?” I’m glad he’s talking to Mommy and not me. I’m not gonna lie.)
Snow days make me think of being a kid. The sound of a midnight plow on a snow-muffled street. The celebratory sibling dance upon finding out that school was called off. It’s Throwback Thursday already, but every snow day is a throwback for me.Here are mine; I’m channeling spring and summer.