It’s day five of the Great Snowmaggedon of DC and we’re relatively unscathed. Today we ventured to target and handed over a small fistful of money in exchange for toys that aren’t already boring C. stiff and a new Sesame Street DVD that isn’t already boring Mommy stiff (if I have to see Elmo guard Miles during a basketball game on OnDemand one more time…). More snow is yet to come but we meet it armed with Play-Do, coloring books, and beer.*
It does seem like an extended stretch of snow days would foster a great reminiscence of my younger days in a snowier clime, leading to me don boots and gloves and take my young son out into the snowscape to show him the Joys of Youth in Winter. Fat chance. I didn’t love winter as a kid. I left western New York State because I didn’t like winter and I’m not much into trekking around out there just for the sake of reliving the experience of losing all sensation in my toes. Particularly since the snow is actually taller than he is. Being buried is not an ideal venue for sledding, doncha know.
I do wonder how many already-shaky marriages this kind of protracted togetherness will send over the brink. My father admonished us not to over-do it shoveling, citing heavy, wet snow as Widow-Maker snow due to it’s propensity for causing heart attacks among over-extended shovelers. I would hazard that many more snow days will result in labeling this storm as either a Divorce-Maker or a Baby-Boom-Maker. Because there are only two ways a couple can deal with being stuck inside and those are the end-results.
*Yes, the beer is for the adults. Jeez, I’m not that bad a mom.
