This weekend, the mid-Atlantic region was hit by a massive blizzard affectionately known as "Snowzilla," (or Jonas, thanks to the National Weather Service). For once the predictions were actually accurate - no offense to all the hard-working meteorologists out there - but I was a bit skeptical. By the time it was all said and done, the snowfall was upwards of two feet in most areas in Metro DC.
Surprisingly, the thing that worried me most before the storm hit wasn't running out of food. Or an extended power outage. Or when the snow plows would reach us. It was wondering how in the world we would survive stuck in the house with a near two-year old who was used to being entertained and engaged every second.
We prepared the best we could being first-time parents. Musa preemptively purchased crayons, construction paper, Playdoh and puzzles. We searched everywhere for snow pants (no luck!) We stocked up on Lincoln's favorite snacks. We kept our phones charged just in case the power failed and we had to resort to Mickey Mouse on Youtube.
Thankfully, all our hard work paid off (meaning God was gracious) and we survived Friday night, the first dusting, unscathed. By 8:30p, Lincoln was happily exhausted and went to sleep with little fuss. But by Saturday afternoon, when we were in the thick of the storm, he was more than ready to break out. We sighed deeply when he finally picked up his shoes and stood at the door longingly.
"Outside?" he pleaded with those sweet brown eyes that are so very hard to resist.
Against our better judgement, we obliged. It probably wasn't a bad idea to get an early start on shoveling, right? Plus the four walls were closing in on us all. So out we went. It was a gloriously messy evening, with high winds and snow coming from every which way. Our entire yard was a field of white.
He loved it. All of it.
At the first sight of the snow, he plunged in headfirst, shrieking with pleasure upon discovering that it was cold and wet and stuck to his clothes. He quickly realized (being the smart boy that he is) that it was coming from the sky of all places! Throwing his head back in reckless abandon, he welcomed the cold flakes on his bare face with an open mouth and extended tongue, frequently losing his balance and falling into another pile of snow. Which he thought was hilarious.
We worked hard to clear the sidewalks while he worked equally as hard to push snow from the side banks we'd created back into the walkway. I can only imagine he thought we were destroying his playground, taking away all the snow!. It was quite the scene, really. And in the end we were happily worn out, us three. Thank God! Another night of fuss-free sleep!
This morning, Lincoln woke up, got his boots and again stood by the door (at 7a, mind you). We've been outside to play a total of three times already this weekend (and counting), each venture requiring concerted effort considering the hooded sweatshirt over the long-sleeve shirt tucked into two pairs of gloves (because they're not waterproof ... I know, we're horrible parents), not to mention the long johns under the sweatpants tucked into the doubled socks, carefully placed into the snow boots (the need for which we actually did anticipate).
But it's been thrilling to watch him experience and appreciate the beauty of changing seasons, and marvel at what must be the most peculiar and awe-inspiring thing - white cold wet falling from the sky.
Watching him reminds me of all the joys of my own childhood. I pray he revels in his for many more years to come.