Lego building, sock sorting and even the cat napping, all stop when snow flakes begin drifting down.
Our calm Saturday morning activities are abruptly interrupted when the big, fat, fluffy snowflakes begin falling outside the window. I did not expect snow today; it is not even the first snow, but it is the long awaited slow falling snow flakes that call to my children, (especially when it eventually piles up deep enough for sledding, which it didn’t ). The lego house is abandoned, mid-build, in front of the wood stove. The ‘teacher’s white board’ is abandoned, with the word “kind” half written. I even pause my sock matching project, leaving mis-matched socks strewn across the sofa. Snow pants, coats, boots and hats are pulled on over footy pajamas as my two younger girls dash for the door.
The two of them are completely caught up in catching snow flakes on their tongues the minute their feet are out the front door. I struggle into my own boots, hat and coat to follow, but they are long gone when I get outside. They have already created a chasing and hiding game that takes them all around the house, down past the chicken coop and around the old swing set.
I should go back inside and fold the rest of the laundry, or finish changing the sheets on the beds, but instead I choose to pause.