Sure, I love watching the snow gently fall outside from the comfort of my warm, cozy couch while snuggled up with a cup of hot cocoa. Mini-marshmellows getting all gooey and melty on top. But when the kids beg to go out and build a snowman? Sledding? Snow forts? This, my friends, is where I draw the line.
Snowsuits? Hats? Mittens? Scarves? Snow boots? Good LORD! You'd think we were getting dressed for a trek up to the top of Mount McKinley instead of just 10 minutes outside frolicking in the powdery white fluff.
YUCK. No, thank you.
Luckily, my husband LOVES snow. He's like a kid in a candy store when the meteorologist reports that we'll get even just a dusting of white frozen flakes. It cracks me up.
I smile at the ridiculousness of a grown man getting excited about a few inches of snow because it allows me the opportunity to pass on the responsibility of taking the kiddos sledding. SCORE! All I have to do is get them dressed for the elements and he's more than happy to take them on a winter adventure that lasts a max of fifteen minutes.
And you know darn well I take advantage of every last minute the three of them are outside by reading a book on the couch with a cup of a hot beverage of my choice, with the gas fire place blazing to keep me nice and warm. I savor every single moment of the quiet.
Because you know it's absolute chaos when they get back.
"My socks are wet!!"
"I can't feel my fingers!"
"I need to go pee-pee right NOW! HELP!"
In my head, I am counting the hours until they decide to do it all over again.
Because those fifteen minutes of "me" time are so delicious.
Almost as delicious as a bite of freshly fallen snow. (Not the yellow kind.)
