We’ve gotten off easy this winter in Ontario. Well, Southern Ontario anyway…Ottawa isn’t feeling too lucky with the 51cm dumping that they got last week (that’s roughly eight thousand feet for my non-metric friends…my conversion may be slightly askew.)
Grace has been thrilled to not have snow. Although I am not sure why she cares…she has joined every club in the school with the sole purpose being to avoid going outside in the cold at all costs. I heard Molly asking her what club she was a part of at lunch, because they are in many of the same clubs and Molly couldn’t think of what Grace could be doing with her lunch hours. The “ummm count” prompted me to question if she was in the “hiding in the bathroom” club. She didn’t deny it. I was a founding member of that club. I felt that prideful glow that a mother feels when her daughter pledges the same sorority. My baby has chosen to follow me into Phi Beta Underachieving Weasels. It’s what every mother hopes for.
Molly, on the other hand, LOVES snow. She once asked…someone…not Santa…maybe Mother Nature…anyway, there was a letter-writing campaign…for it to snow for the entire week surrounding her birthday. Someone was impressed with her persuasive writing skills because we had so much snow that week our mayor had the military on speed-dial.
The thing that they both have in common is that if it is going to be snowing…there’s not a snowball’s chance in gym class that they are willingly going to school.
We were expecting a storm today, but the
fortune-tellers meteorologists couldn’t figure out what form that storm would take. They probably updated their crystal ball to the new o/s and nothing has worked properly since.
I could just be projecting there.
I was betting on a snow day since we haven’t had any yet this year and the bulk of the bad weather wasn’t expected until mid-morning. And because it’s pizza day. Sick days, doctor appointments, plagues, natural disasters…they all like to screw with pizza day.
Molly and Grace decided they needed insurance…they began tearing around the house performing odd rituals.
Their pajamas were on inside-out and backwards. They threw ice cubes in the toilet bowl. Put white crayons on every window sill. Shook snow globes hard enough to kill all the villagers who live inside. And stole spoons from the kitchen to place under their pillows.
(I also keep a spoon under my pillow, but it’s for tunnelling my way out of here and heading for the airport.)
After inspecting the seals on the cough syrup bottles, I asked them what they were up to.
Apparently these were all things done in the hope of making it a snow day. Grace felt the note that she hung in the front window made this abundantly clear.
This morning when they woke up with flatware imprints on their foreheads, awkwardly-positioned sleeping garments, and extra-chilly bathroom visits, they were annoyed.
The internet had betrayed them.
Preaching to the choir girls. Preaching to the choir.
At least one of my girls was happy…Maggie bounced all the way to school and grinned like it was snowing potato chips. She adores snow and feels very ripped off this year. On Friday she was covering up any bits of grass that were exposed both at school and at home. When she looked outside Saturday morning to see that record-setting high temperatures had melted all of her hard work…well, I haven’t seen her look so angry at the outdoors since the year the ocean stole her sandcastle.
Monday and Tuesday at school she actually refused to do anything outside and sat down against the wall.
Thank goodness Mother Nature redeemed herself today. Otherwise I was going to suggest that she join me at the airport to enter the witness protection plan. Because Mother Nature doesn’t even want to test Maggie’s temper. She will make a tornado look like a summer breeze.