Yay! It’s snowing, hurray for snow! I have two little ones and this Christmas passed without the (oft promised) snow, so when Thing 1 heard me saying that snow was forecast this week, he (and his brother) started getting excited. Here then, is my take on snow with little ones: the theory and the reality.
SNOW WITH KIDS – THEORY
1. Wake up, throw open the curtains, see fat, fluffy snowflakes falling, rapidly, from the sky. Children squeal with excitement as the flakes quickly begin to settle on the lawn.
2. Run (carefully, you know what a health and safety peril too much glee can bring) down the stairs. The children are waiting patiently for their breakfasts, keen for the day to begin.
3. Make healthy, nutritious porridge for all the family and swirl in some locally produced, organic Suffolk honey.
4. Say a cheerful goodbye to His Nibs as he heads off to work, chortling “Don’t forget to make Daddy a snowman! Enjoy the sledge I made you”
5. Finish wholesome, delicious breakfast and place snowboots by the back door, in readiness for the fun to begin.
6. Help children to get dressed in their beautiful Mini Boden snowsuits.
7. Brush teeth, wash hands, don gloves, ease on winter boots.
8. Open the door, leap and HURRAH, we’re outside – we’re making snow angels and we’re building snowmen and we’re taking the sledge that Daddy built and going to the top of the hill in the village and – WHEEEEEEEEEE – we’re sledging until our cheeks are rosy.
9. Stop only for lunch and a delicious hot chocolate before doing it all again.
10. Pray that the snow lasts until the weekend so that Daddy can join in the fun.
SNOW WITH KIDS – REALITY
1. Wake up a full hour before the 06:30 alarm goes off to the shouts of “IIIIT’S SNOOOWIIING, CAN WE GO OUTSIDE, CAN WE GO OUTSIDE, CAN WE GO OUTSIDE?” Followed by the screeching rendition of a Suffolk-accented (nearly) three year old caterwauling “DO YOU WANNA BUILD A SNOOOOOMAAAN” (‘thanks’ Disney for making lyrics that a toddler can easily recite. At 05:31hrs.)
2. Carefully walk down the stairs, eyes still not quite open. Flick the kettle on. Whilst still barely awake, your growing hypothermia reminds you that the heating is not due to come on for another hour.
3. Make healthy, nutritious porridge for all the family. Vow to buy some locally produced, organic honey. Wrestle children out of the playroom. Present porridge to the children. Children cry. Reach for generic, sugary guff they WILL eat.
4. Say hasty goodbye to His Nibs. Have fleeting jealous moment at the idea of sitting in a car, quietly, listening to Radio 4 or loud rock.
5. Wonder a) if you have snowboots; b) what size the children’s feet are c) whether you can realistically squash a hot water bottle down the back of your jeans. Realise that you haven’t got a sledge, find thick bin bag instead. Vow to upcycle an old worktop into an amazing sledge.
6. Start the 90 minute process of putting two small boys into vest, pants, long-sleeved top, jumper, socks, snow socks, jeans, waterproof legging things, coat, hat, gloves. Fourteen items of clothing, twice. That’s 28 individual items that are, invariably, all going to need washing.
7. Watch, despairingly, as two small boys make terrible attempts at washing their hands and brushing their teeth; realise that the gloves probably should’ve waited. Attempts to get winter boots on include (but are by no means limited to) pushing, shoving, pleading, marching, and using a spatula as a makeshift shoehorn.
8. Open the door, sharp intake of breath – IT’S SO COLD. Lift Thing 2 outside, against his will. He takes two steps and faceplants into the snow. He cries. Decide to encourage the children to embrace the fun of snow by making snowballs. Unusually accurate aim means that you catch Thing 1 side-on by his left ear. Thing 1 and Thing 2 simultaneously crying. Check your watch. It is 9:02am; you have been outside for 98 seconds.
9. Come indoors, remove approximately 40 items of wet clothing. Search for instant hot chocolate powder. In the end, nuke some orange squash and serve with a well-deserved biscuit. Realise there are approximately 598 minutes until it’s morally acceptable to so much as contemplate a glass of Merlot.
10. Type “visa entry requirements for Bali” into Google as you hairdryer your driveway to melt the snow…
Still, soon be summer.
