Snow days are lazy mornings, pajamas all day, fuzzy socks, and extra quilts on the couch. Baby hugs, little kid hugs, and big kid hugs. Giggles and snuggles, tickles and cuddles.
Snow days are board games and video games, cartoons and movies, American girls and superheroes. Candyland, Life, Monopoly. Bowling, boxing, Mario. Scrooge, Barbie, The Grinch. Kit, Molly, Batman, Superman.
Snow days are layers and layers, big bulky coats, “I can’t put my arms down!” Ice-encrusted mittens, puddles around boots, rosy frozen cheeks. Carrots for noses, snowballs against windows, snowforts and battles.
Snow days are hot chocolate and cookies. Pancakes, biscuits, scrambled eggs. Tacos, steak, baked potatoes. Popcorn, popcorn, and more popcorn.
Snow days are endless messes, increasing snippy-ness, emptying pantry shelves. Parents getting creative, grasping at straws, SnowDay Olympics. Cleaning kitchen again, picking up snow clothes again, sweeping floor again. “Stop arguing. Love your sister. Is it bedtime yet?”
Snow days are fire in the fireplace, date night after bedtime, movies and sparkling cider. Playing with the children, inside jokes, time away from the stress. Mini-vacation, back rubs, cherishing each other.
Snow days are cancelled church, cancelled gymnastics, cancelled everything. Hymns around the piano, praying on the couch, flipping in the playroom. Extra time to love them, extra time to play with them, extra time to enjoy them.
Snow days are looking out the window, drab and ugly winter yard, freshly covered clean and white. Reminder of my sin, covered clean and white by His blood. Snow days full of grace, full of love, full of joy. Life full of grace, full of love, full of joy.
Snow days are memories, silver and gold, stored up like treasure. Snow days are lessons in enjoying life, taking it easy, savoring the moment. May snow days teach us, refresh us, remind us of His goodness in the life He has given.