Snow Hours

“Everyday should be a snow day!” Proclaimed my fella. His bare feet danced a happy jig on the cold tile floor. Hair askew and stuck up in 20 different directions he wore his ninja turtle pj pants, his ever present NOHS Titan Tide t-shirt and a heart happy grin. My heart ba-bumped. He shimmied a little more as he scooped one blueberry pancake after another on his plate. The higher the stack the bigger the sashaying dance became. At 6 he ‘dabbed’ and whooped a bit. Wielding a pink spatula and a grin I agreed with him. He threw out a ‘thank you mama’ and practically skipped out of the kitchen.
The term snow day was a grossly inaccurate description but I didn’t correct him. Our light dusting of snow wasn’t what had him so happy. The snow day mentality was responsible for the jig and the smile. 
With plummeting tempatures and dark, heavy clouds those in the “know” (chuckle-chuckle) issued warnings that closed schools, sent office workers scurrying home and drove grocery store attendance to record hi’s. Before dark everyone that could be was nestled at home, wine in hand, cuddled under blankets and quilts and waiting on the storm. No one had anywhere else to be. 
Despite a chilly house and no plans the fella was up early. Perhaps he was up early because he had grand plans of snow sledding with his Go-pro saucily attached to his tobaggon. If that was the case he didn’t show his disappointment when I stumbled out of the bedroom a little later. Our snow day consisted of a little dusting over the cars and little else. Perhaps getting control over the remote and his turn in the chair was enough. He chirped,”Mornin’ Mama,” from under his bundle of quilts. “Check out the SNOW!” He encouraged then laughed as I ran to the door and threw it open. 
Despite a total lack of percipitation there was still a ‘snow day’ feel. The big events of the day were all still on hold. We had nowhere to be. Nothing to do. We were, quite literally, chilling. 
I made coffee and made him some of his grandpas special tea. He watched a boy show and I read. The house was quiet and still. 
“Hungry” man child grunted a bit later. Normally everybody fends for themselves on Saturdays. It’s cinnamon rolls or cereal. Maybe toast. Today was different. 
Blueberry pancakes bathed in butter and Canadian bacon makes one fella very, very happy. So do coveted Madagascar vanilla crystals. The special and expensive that I had been saving. For what? Who knows. Probably for the same special occasion that the 3 year old bottle of champagne in the bottom of the fridge was being held for. A snow day seems good enough reason to break out the good stuff-so that’s what I did. 
Everyday should be a snow day my fella said and I couldn’t agree more. Why everyday should be a snow day to him wasn’t the same as why everyday should be a snow day to me. 
In a few hours the sun will be high in the sky, the tempatures will rise, the snow will melt and life will go back to all the “must-do-needs-doing” activities. We will be back in the go. Tomorrow the roads will be clear and they will want to see girlfriend and friends and I’ll be back to the office to try and get enough done to avoid a nervous breakdown on Monday. The snow day will be over. 
But for a few glorious hours we had a snow day. We had hot tea and expensive sugar. We had homemade pancakes and snugly tv time. We had a chance, even for a few hours, to stop and just BE. We had candles ready and allowed ourselves a good book without having to be or go anywhere. 
Thank god for snow…can’t use that word day as it has lasted less than 24 hours….thank god for snow hours. 

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