When I was little I loved snow days. It was awesome that we didn't have to go to school and I could play outside until I turned into a Popsicle. We didn't have sleds so we used trash can lids or pool toys to slide down hills.
My brother would sneak up behind me while I was trying to build a snowman and smash a huge ball of snow in my face. Of course I wasn't going to let him get away with that. We ran around the yard throwing snow balls at each other until our mittens were soaked and we were out of breath.
Then we ran inside tracking snow everywhere, unbundled ourselves, and stood by the kerosene heater. Sometimes while regaining feeling in our toes we had hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows.
It wasn't long before we bundled ourselves up again and were playing in our winter wonder land.
After mom had her morning coffee she would come outside and help us build a snowman. She also showed us how to catch the falling snow on our tongues. But then my brother smashed snow in her face and she was ready to go in.
These are the wonderful times I thought about as I watched my children play in the snow and then run inside, rosy cheeked, begging for hot chocolate. After the chocolate was gone and dry mittens were on they were back outside. I looked out the living room window just in time to see history repeat itself as my oldest smashed a snow ball in her sisters face.
And I thought about this when I woke up at 5am this morning so my husband and I could build a snowman before the snow melted.