Tonight it is supposed to snow. This being New England, the weather has been completely unpredictable so far, with the only major snow being over Halloween weekend. It went from fifty something degrees one day to my parents' steps being buried in snow and me driving along back roads at 10 miles an hour because people around here freak the heck out when it starts to snow.
Somewhere there is a math equation that will explain how the Northeast Lifers seem to forget how to drive every time some kind of precipitation falls from the sky, but until I find that graph you'll just have to take my word for it.
Anyway, snow. The girls overheard me talking about it and are psyched. We've had a dusting or two but it's always gone by about 9 a.m. so they are thrilled at the prospect of some snow to play in. And I am kind of panicked because like a good mommy, I have no snow boots for Mary. Anna only has some because we have Mary's outgrown ones kicking around. Points for me.
The hidden advantage to waiting until Zero Hour to buy snow boots: Fifty percent off at Target, folks!
The sobering reality: There are NONE in Mary's size. None. Not even if I go up a size and double up her socks. Not even if I buy her the "boy" blue or black ones and fight her into something that isn't pink or purple and doesn't look like Tinkerbell exploded all over it. There were literally NO boots in Mary's size in Target. If rehearsal gets out early tonight, I'm going to brave WalMart, but that was just not happening with Anna and Lily today. I know, I know, "scary WalMart" is a stereotype, but sometimes stereotypes are true and our local WallyWorld scares the Bejesus out of me.
I am not so excited for the snow. The girls get their outdoor love from their father, entirely. For me, snow is best enjoyed from the other side of a picture window, while I sip hot cocoa and read a book and the children nap blissfully somewhere on the other side of the house. (My dream, my absence from reality. Deal with it.)
As I typed the above paragraphs, Tim asked what I was writing about.
"The snow," I said, making a mental note to also hit the supermarket after rehearsal, when the little old ladies would all be home and not shanking the locals over two percent milk and white bread anymore.
"Outside!" Mary said. Anna paused. She mumbled something. Tim asked her to repeat it. She mumbled again, eying all of us.
"Let's. Go. Trick. Or. Treating." We paused. She repeated her request, with vigor.
"Uh, no, honey, it's not time for that," Tim said, hiding a smile.
"Well, it's not Hallow-" he began.
"WHEN? When's it gonna be Halloween?" Mary started, and the endless refrain began, punctuated with "why not? Why not? Haddoween! Why not?" from Anna, the short, and indignant.
Tim's going to have a fun evening.