The first snow

Yesterday, Kaleb woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that he was going back to school today. I said okay, and we fell back asleep. He then spent the morning learning about Avogadro’s number and moles and exponents with his mentor, and by this morning he seemed horrified that I didn’t get his “joke” because he most certainly was not going back to school. In fact, the mention of school caused a reaction that I can only imagine would be similar to one illicited by sticking him with a hot branding iron. It’s a common 4 year old response of course, but not the one you’re looking for in reference to school.

Instead, we pulled on our snow gear and grabbed our shovels and headed outside. We finally got our first snow of the year yesterday and last night, so we headed out to shovel the few inches of heavy, wet snow off the driveway while the dog dug up the garden. True story. It’s a good thing he’s cute.

This first snow wasn’t just any first snow though. It was the perfect first snow. Snowman snow. Having spent almost the first decade of my life in the South, I’ve never been an expert when it comes to building snowmen. In fact, I have only built a handful in my entire life, and it wasn’t until last year that I actually even endeavored to make one on my own. I never even really perfected the snowball making, it bothers me that I can’t make them into perfect spheres like in the movies. That’s just how snowballs are supposed to look!

But all in all, I think our Frosty turned out pretty cute. I think a snowman on a lawn is a symbol of fun times had by all, it’s a necessity on those perfect snow days.

We came inside for hot chocolate and to make gingerbread cookies. My son has been eyeballing the gingerbread house kits at the store, but I promised him we would make our own. I forgot how much work it entails though! Mix the dough, chill the dough, roll the dough, bake the cookies, cool the cookies, make icing, stick the house together and wait for it to harden. Then decorate. We didn’t even get to the decorating tonight and I’m about 95% certain we are going to wake up to one of two scenarios: 1) the house crumbles in on itself overnight or 2) the dog magically gets to the house and devours the whole thing and I spend the night cleaning his puke. Really, it’s one or the other. I guess there’s a small chance that it will still be standing, but I’m not holding my breath.

Oh wait, so I was supposed to be teaching my kid or something today right? Ahh well, let’s see. There was the physics of snowman building. The chemistry of cookies. Chemical changes. We doubled our gingerbread recipe so there’s your math – I don’t think Kindergarten covers multiplying fractions. I could be wrong on that one though. There was the engineering of designing and building the gingerbread house. We read. And he had swimming lessons and I’m always a fan of teaching kids to not drown. I think that’s a pretty productive day!

The one thing that never ceases to amaze me though is how few hours are in a day. I feel like every morning I wake up with a list of things we should do and we only ever get a fraction of them done. When I look at the subjects that schools are required to teach in a day I wonder how they get it all in! Maybe it’s because we aren’t at the point of always sitting down and learning via a text book? Maybe we just go super in depth. Or, there’s always the possibility that I suck at this.

At least I’ve always been a fast learner.


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