… and it’s 23 degrees outside.
They run around the house asking “Can we go play in the snow, nowwwww?” until I finally relent. Approximately 15 minutes and 342,712 requests later.
They proceed to dig through all their drawers and closets and don 75% of their winter wardrobe. At the same time.
They move on to every coat closet in the house to rummage through the chaos to dig out the 4 1/2 pairs of mittens we own, collectively. Because we live in the deep south, y’all.
They fight over the few scarves we have because, well… a girl just wants to look cute in the snow.
They pull on their biggest coat and top it off with their warmest hat, and – finally – rush out to play in the snow…
ready to do this thing.
23 minutes later, they are done doing that thing.
They look at me with big, saucer-sized eyes, runny noses and bright pink cheeks and tell me they’re ready to come back in.
They peel off every. single. piece of clothing… down to their last dry layer.
Then they find a warm, cozy spot, to snuggle up.
And announce, “Now that was a fun day playing in the snow.”