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Just One Snowball

Just One Snowball

In the part of Kentucky where we live, the snow seems to come and go rather quickly. It melts almost as soon as it settles. For a child of three, that can be quite disappointing. Hoping to go out and play in the snow when you wake up, only to wake up and discover that it has all gone away. It’s like a game of chase that you just can’t win, because--well, mother nature just isn’t a very fair player in the game of chase.

Mother Nature doesn’t do fair.

When Allie woke up early this morning, the ground was covered with snow. She claimed to need a snowball. There was a hint of desperation in her voice when it came to needing a snowball. So I promised her that when we left the house in an hour or two, there would definitely be some snowball throwing. It was in the plans.

We finally leave after convincing her that today was one of the days that she was not allowed to wear a full tutu outside. For her, this was cruel and unusual punishment until I let her put a cream colored tutu skirt on over her jeans. Sitting here thinking about it, I know that I am the mother people see in the grocery store and are, ‘what the hell is her kid wearing? does she really let her go out like that?’ And yeah, I do. I let her wear tutu’s over blue jeans. So far, it hasn’t harmed anyone. We just roll with it.

When we finally got outside, the snow had disappeared. It was all gone. We couldn’t even find a small patch that would be large enough for Allie to ball up snow in her tiny fist. We searched our whole yard. No snow.

Allie freaked out in her rational, tiny adult way. She only wanted one snow ball. JUST ONE, she emphasized to me. At that point, the tone of desperation in her voice was very convincing and readily fervent. She just needed ONE snowball. JUST ONE. She even clarifies that for once, just once, she was not going to throw it at me, but at my car.

We get in my car and begin driving to her grandmother’s house. The whole time she mourns the snow. Still thinking of the ONE snowball she wanted. JUST ONE. I honestly began to feel sorry for her, because she made it sound as if the one snowball would change her preschooler life into something majestic and fairytale worthy. She didn’t even bother to argue with me over what was playing on the radio.

I begin eyeing the area for snow. I mean, if one snowball is that important, I thought I should look for it. A snowball wasn’t a difficult request at all. It wasn’t as if she asked for a puppy, a pony or a porsche. Just a snowball. So I looked the whole time I was driving.

Finally, I spot some snow in an empty parking lot. I pull in, not saying a word.

“Why are we here?” Allie asks.

“I found snow,” I replied.

“LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! OH MY! OH MY! PLEASE LET ME OUT!” She shouted. Her face lit up, and I was still fascinated with how excited anyone could be over the possibility of a snowball. I came around to let her out. She scanned the lot and ran to the patch of snow.

Allie carefully balled the snow up in her little hand and ran right back over to my car. She launched the snowball, and then let out a sigh of relief when it hit the side of my car.

‘Wow, Mom. I feel so much better.”

I giggled a bit, because she was serious.

“Do you want to throw a few more?” I asked.

“No, I told you. I just needed the one.”

She marched back to the car. Her furry hood haloed around her face and her winter coat layered over a sweater, jeans, and a tutu. I love this kid.

Tell us: Do you have any great stories about making snowy memories with your children? 

Originally published on ShamelesslySassy

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