Friends were round this morning, and we were lamenting the lack of snow. None last year, and none this year either, really.
I was wrong.
Just now, we had a heck of a hailstorm. Then I hear M shout from downstairs (S and I were upstairs, stretching hands out a window to feel the hail), ‘IT’S SNOW!’ And it was. Snow. Real snow.
We ran downstairs, flung open the door. M dashed out in crocs and a t shirt, bare bum flashing the world as he yelled a barbarian yell and ran. ‘Look, when I run, it makes the snow go faster!’ He continued yelling and running, while S was leaning forward to touch the show, tilting her head to the sky. ‘I can’t believe it!’ she said.
It only snowed fifteen minutes. We were out there, in pyjamas (or not, as the case may be!), the whole time. Catching snow on our tongues, marvelling at the thick flakes. Whirling and twirling and just being happy.
When we came in, I thought, wow. For all the moments I worry I’m not as good of a mom as I can be, there are these other moments. No hesitating, no preparation (and thank goodness, if we’d stopped to get ‘properly’ dressed we’d have missed it!), no worry about anything. Just standing in the snow with my kids, arms wide open, and appreciating what feels like a small miracle on this simple Thursday afternoon.