The wet snow flakes stuck to the window pane. Others collected in a heap on the window ledge covering part of the window like a ski slope. The snow had an icy glow as the sun broke through and the clouds dispersed.
The children, eager for a snowy day, clambered around the house looking for their snow gear. My older son balked at the thought of boots and hat, but did find a pair of gloves to keep his hands warm during snowball battles. The youngest still wore a snow suit. She was just three and needed help. The middle child rushed out the door to arm herself with a stock of snowballs before her brother appeared.
“Mama, help me,” the little one said pulling up the snowsuit. She danced around, catching the excitement in the air. Even the Dalmatians sat at the door wagging their tails. I righted my little one and held the snow pants as she jumped inside. I adjusted the straps because it was too large from the previous owner. Next came a heavy sweatshirt and then the struggle with boots. She positioned herself on the floor while I kneeled behind her and pulled. Ahh! The first went on without a problem. I retrieved the next boot and repeated the procedure. She stood and I noticed she walked funny on the one foot. I pulled off the boot and discovered her sock had slid down her foot. I went in search of different socks and repeated the drill. I zipped up her coat, pulled the wool hat on her head, pulled the hood over the hat, and struggled with the mittens. Mittens keep your hands warm, but a nightmare to find the little thumb and get it positioned correctly on a moving body.
“Hold still,” I said as I wiggled fingers to find the thumb.
I quickly grabbed my winter gear and was still pulling on my hat and gloves as I followed her out the door. Wham! The first snowball hit my chest. Giggles followed. The older two had found their neighborhood friends. Forts lined with snowballs were ready for action. A flurry of snowballs caused me to quickly retreat around the corner of the house. I managed to lob a few in their direction. Then I grabbed the rope of the old wood sled and plunked my little one on the boards.
I ran through the snow, pulling the sled. Suddenly, it became lighter. I turned and discovered that she had fallen off. Her snowsuit was nylon. She landed on her back on top of the crust of snow. Being light, her arms and legs moved like a crab. Instead of righting herself, she slid farther on top of the snow. The more she moved; the farther she slid. All I could do was laugh. Seeing me laugh, she giggled too. Falling in the snow beside her, we rolled together in laughter.
“I’m ready for hot chocolate,” she said after we stopped giggling.
We trudged back inside for cups of hot chocolate and marshmallow cream after removing layers of winter gear. The wet pile would grow, as the neighborhood children along with my own became cold and sought retreat inside. On this snowy day I would look around and smile at red cheeks, bright eyes, and chocolate moustaches.