The snow has finally arrived, in all its brilliant white glory! It dumped steadily all day Friday and left us with a winter wonderland, after months of waiting. Some people I know are less than thrilled, but I’m quite happy with its arrival. I hope it stays… but hopefully there’s no kind of divine retaliation that causes it to stay till June in order to make up for coming so late!
When Saturday dawned bright and sunny, we headed out to play. My husband and son went to the schoolyard across the street where they discovered a treasure: truly gigantic snowballs. Check these out; they’re incredible! Some kids must have been really busy on Friday making these! Of course the two-year-old had to sit on the very top; just imagine what the world looks like from up there when you’re that small. It was nearly impossible to get him down!
Funny thing, though, is that it caused me to experience some déja-vu. Once upon a time, I was in grade four and there was a ton of snow in the schoolyard. Being the bossy leader that I was (perhaps can be still at times!), I coerced a group of girls to help me make a gigantic snowball. That thing wasn’t as big as the one in the picture, but it was at least as tall as us. It took about five girls to move it, and we started chasing the kindergartners with it. The goal was to run them down with the snowball and, sure enough, they ran screaming from our path. Within a few minutes, I’d been hauled into the principal’s office for a Talk. I had quite a few encounters with her over the years… good old Mrs. Wales! She ended our game and the magnificent snowball was left to melt slowly over the following weeks. Dejected. Alone. Oh, I felt sorry for it and probably less repentant than I should have.
But back to the giant snowball that I can see from my window right now – isn’t it lovely that those kids can still make such a thing? My brother’s school doesn’t even allow them to make snowballs because of potential injuries! Come on, people! There’s only so much figurative bubble wrap you can surround a kid with, and when you do, it often stunts the good, healthy, homemade play that helps them to grow up into well-adjusted, satisfied adults! Heck, I had a 20-foot treehouse that I once fell out of headfirst. I broke my arm and spent a miserable 4 weeks with a cast in the middle of the summer, but would I have traded my treehouse for a lower one? No way!
So bring on those gigantic snowballs. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines, as long as you aren’t running down any kindergartners…