It’s starting to seem like my mother and Mother Nature are conspiring to get me to take my son to play in the snow. March came in like a lion and is going out like a lion. It’s the end of March and we’ve had snow twice in the past four days. Ok, I get it. Winter will not end until David throws a snow ball at my face.
This snow was much heaver than the last one. There was actual accumulation to stomp around in, which is exactly what David wanted to do at first.
He stared at his feet as he walked around the backyard, checking out all the things he usually plays with. He didn’t want to wear mittens, but hated touching the snow.
Getting his hands cold was worth it to unearth his ball, though.
Once he rescued his ball, there was no turning back.
Soccer is the perfect game if you don’t want to get your hands wet. Did you know soccer was actually invented in a snow storm? The players didn’t have mittens, so to keep their hands warm they just kicked the ball rather than picking it up and throwing it.
That actually isn’t true at all, but that’s the kind of idea that pops into your head when you’re freezing, standing outside in March watching your son kick a ball in the snow.
David played both halves of a regulation soccer game. He was offense, defense, the home team, and also the away team.
I played the role of soccer mom; I stood on the sidelines wondering why Starbucks doesn’t deliver.
His team won.
Now that that’s over with, let’s get on with spring.