I have found that, ignoring the forecast, refusing to talk about the possibility of snow, is not a deterrent. It still came this weekend. More than I would even consider.
Sunday was Daniel’s birthday. All those sickening cliches about babies growing up? I really try to stay away from them, but they are so very true.
I actually celebrated his birthday privately in my own head, on Saturday. Andy was at the Midwest Mountaineering Expo, and Shelby was in town. Daniel and I were both home in a snowstorm with really bad colds. For dinner, we shuffled around and cooked soup and grilled cheese, I laid on the couch, he sprawled on the chair and explained to me why Davy Jones had snakes and barnacles instead of a beard, and I watched Pirates of the Caribbean. Honestly, I hate that movie and all of its sequels. I am mildly entertained by Jack Sparrow, but mostly, I just wanted to hang out with Daniel the teenager. He thanked me profusely for managing the dishes so he could sleep, and before he dragged himself to his own bed, he folded back the covers of mine, and left my glasses neatly on top of my book on my pillow. He didn’t even know it, but it was a little gift/gesture that reminded me how glad I was that he was born 14 years ago.
On Sunday, the people came! We played a little broomball in the snow.
We celebrated 3 April birthdays.
We dyed the Easter Eggs, in the fancy Pysanki form,
and we also danced. You too, can do the Double Dream Hands! It’s awesome!
What I can tell you for sure?
Daniel will grow older, the snow and ice will melt under this intense sun. It’s all good.