Before Thanksgiving, Younger had his first snow day. He thought he was hitting the jackpot of winters.
He’s not had a single snow day since. And he’s pretty sure that’s all kinds of wrong.
Then he saw snow in the forecast for yesterday.
He tried to remain a snow pessimist, but the school dismissed all after-school activities because a bit of freezing rain was falling. And he saw a glimmer of hope.
And when he burst through the back door, he had a grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “I know, I know,” he assured me. “I’ve told myself not to expect snow. I was telling myself, ‘Don’t expect snow.’ But when I started running down our driveway, I suddenly landed on my butt. And if our driveway is already slick, then…” He sobered for a moment. “That poor cat, though.”
I don’t know what happened to the cat in the moment Younger went airborne or the moment he was suddenly not airborne, most likely.
I was too amused by his butt being used as a weather consultant.
Which turned out not to have any more accuracy than the actual forecasters.
He did not have a smile when I woke him for school this morning.
I know that’s a rough day for all of us, that day when we first realize we can’t trust our butt…