Snow Days

It’s funny how much you enjoy snow days . . . until you’re a parent. And then you get all put out because it ruins your ability to work and then you have to figure out something to do to get you and the kid out of the house and get all annoyed because you realize that you have to take the opportunity to go Christmas shopping (which you hate to do) and so you anticipate the nightmarish hordes of other parents and children at all the stores around town (not to mention on the road) and you reluctantly bundle the kid up (looking wistfully at the newspaper you never get to read anyway) and rush around the house looking for keys and socks and the left shoe and the sippy cup and oh yeah what about a snack for the 10:30am munchies (hers and mine) and crap, where the heck is my wallet? Is it in my computer bag? My diaper bag? My gym bag? And you FINALLY get out the door and your 1 1/2 year-old falls off the step she safely gets over every day but not today and she sits up with an open-mouthed silent rage of tears (which eventually is anything but silent) and a huge black and blue welt pops up on her head and you sit down on the cold pavement and hold her for a minute until she stops crying when eventually she looks up and looks around and its a beautiful, bright day (magnified by the new layer of crystalized ice and snow) and she, who doesn’t remember the snow from last year, is thinking about it and eventually she smiles and with that big welt on her head and tears still on her cheeks, she looks about at you with a satisfied look of realization and happily blurts “Bubbles!”
And then you realize that snow days aren’t so bad as a parent either.