Incessant snow can bring out the best and the worst in us. If nothing else, snowbound children are apt to find novel ways to amuse themselves. There are LEGOS to play with, indoor exercise opportunities, public television. Here’s a glimpse at snow day diversions at my house.
(Foss is a freelance writer from Northern Virginia. This article courtesy of the Arlington Catholic Herald.)
“Mommy, I just swallowed a LEGO light saber!” My six-year-old daughter looks utterly panic-stricken.
“Oh my, Mary Beth, I’m sure it will be just fine,” I offer as I head for the phone.
“What color was it?” Patrick demands.
“Blue,” she whimpers.
“Whew,” says Patrick. “Mine’s green. At least it wasn’t mine.”
“How’s she going to get it out?” Christian wonders aloud.
“Use the force, Mary Beth!” my dear husband commands in his best James Earl Jones impression.
After a call to the pediatrician and to Poison Control, I am assured that the light saber will indeed reappear after a week or two. Guess who gets to make sure it returns from the dark side?
Hours after the light saber crisis, Mary Beth races into the kitchen clucking like a mother hen.
“Mommy, you have to stop, Michael! You have to tell him not to treat the baby that way!” She’s all afluster and I am at least intrigued, if not concerned. My teenager is great with the baby; I can’t imagine the problem. As I ascend the stairs, I hear, “One, sir… Two, sir…Three, sir.” He is bench pressing my dear, sweet pink bundle of joy!
“This is great!” he exclaims, “She even gains weight so I can increase resistance.”
“I hope she spits up on your face,” mutters Mary Beth.
The following morning, Stephen found me in tears in front of the computer. I had just been informed, rather insensitively, by AOL, that Fred Rogers had died. Here's what transpired:
Stephen: Mommy, why are you sad?
Me: I am just thinking about how Mr. Rogers was my friend when I was little and how the world is a little emptier today because he's died.
Stephen: But he's in heaven and the angels are like puppets there.
Me: (smiling now) Yup. He's in heaven — I'm sure they have a very special place there for gentle souls.
Two hours later, Stephen barrels up the stairs:
Momma! He rose from the dead! He's not dead! He's not! I just saw him on TV and I said, “Are you dead?” and he just kept saying it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood!
It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood. There are several more inches of snow on the ground and it’s still snowing. We are all going to be hunkered down together again today. I can’t begin to imagine how my children will amuse themselves.
