When I was a kid, my sister-from-another-mister, Gail, and I used to play outside all day long.
Seriously, all day long.
Sometimes, we’d even forget to eat.
If there was snow on the ground, we’d play until we were completely frozen…chunks of snow in our hair, no feeling in our extremities, noses running, clothes soaked through.
We had to be told to come inside.
Not so much.
They are itching from the first flake to go outside and play in the snow, but for some reason, the “idea” of playing in the snow seems to be more tantalizing than actually playing in the snow.
My kids are more work when they are playing outside than when they are playing inside.
My doorbell is constantly ringing, and when I answer it, I am met with:
“My glove disconnected from my sleeve and snow touched my skin!”
“He threw snow in my face!”
Or, the one that instantly sends me over the edge:
“We’re bored out here!”
I think of the forts and the snowmen and the sledding and the hours and hours and hours that Gail and I entertained ourselves in the snow, and it boggles my mind that my kids need so much guidance to play in the snow.
Inside, they are remarkably creative with their play and they can play in the basement for hours, building, creating, imagining.
What is it about the snow that makes them forget how to play?
I wonder if it might be because we don’t have snow like we did when I was a kid.
Maybe because it only really snows once a season now, they don’t really know what to do with it.
Stupid global warming.
Maybe they’re just snow lazy.
I don’t know…all I know is that Monkey in the Middle and Baby Monkey have been at the front door three times since I started writing this post and I finally told them that I didn’t want to hear from them for at least fifteen minutes.
They aren’t wearing watches.
Fifteen, Fifty…it’s all the same, right?
The country mouse.
The city mouse.
No wires came down, thank goodness!
Half of the snowblower blades broke partway through the blow-out.
After I wrote the above post, the monkeys proved me wrong by playing restaurant on the back deck for an hour.
The twenty-somethings who rent the house across the street are definitely NOT “snow lazy.” We think they are on their way to the world’s largest snowman.