It’s that time of year again, that time of year when I, the mother/adult/grownup of the family, screeches to the world or anyone who’s listening “it’s snowing!”, even after just a few flakes are sprinkled from the heavens. And so, as tradition would have it, we celebrate the first snow with hot chocolate, the way we did many years ago when Big Brother was small, and every year since. Every year since that snow when I woke him at midnight to dance, much to his dismay, across our front yard, on our corner lot, in town. Ahhhh nostalgia.
Ya see that?Right there! Here’s when it really kicked in…sure it was short-lived, but we, and by we I mean me, eagerly anticipate those first few flakes, and we take all attempts seriously. Check out that white haze; I swear it’s snow.
Sadly, big brother was off at his mom’s when it snowed, but I my heart was quite pleased when he came home and asked if we had celebrated with hot chocolate. “I’m sorry dude, we had to; it’s tradition!” But we agreed that we would follow-up the first-snow festivities with the sequel on the second snow this year, the one that happens while we are all present, since one can never really have too much hot chocolate…or too many first snows.
Wildflower has been dreaming of riding a horse for as long as I can remember. Even as an infant, she would scurry up to the tv when I would watch repeats of Road To Avonlea on weekday mornings, and she’d tap on the screen excitedly as they’d gallop through the opening credits. Later, her love affair would develop, as an on screen romance only, as we snuggled together as a family, and watched Heartland, yes we’re hopeless CBC romantics, apparently. Lately, her horsie thoughts have migrated towards what her horse will look like (brown with a black mane and a white patch on her forehead, yes she’s a she), and then she thinks about what she’ll be wearing (red sparkles, like the girl at the plough match), and then she sighs longingly. Well after much begging, this happened…. Sure, it rained the entire time, but standing there with her while she waited for her turn, watching her decide whether her butterflies were nervous, excited, or both, I experienced that motherly moment, that realization that we’re moving onto a new stage. It’s a stage where she may need a gentle nudge to pursue something she’s built up to be extraordinary. And just as I had stepped into this role, taking a deep breath before jumping in….I looked down to find my moon child wearing a helmet, much too large to fit his head. “Me ride hohsie”. Lucky for him (and me), despite his wee self not having registered for the course, the lovely ladies were excited to see him up on Punch, the pony, so both kiddos had their first horseback riding experience together. The photos are washed out, as were we by the time we left, soaked to the bone, but our souls were contented, filled with the satisfaction that only a new experience can bring.