I was awakened this morning to the rumbling of our garage door being opened. Odd. I swore that I hadn’t heard the alarm go off. I patted the space next to me in bed where Bacon Slayer was still snoring away sleeping. I opened one eye long enough to realize that the sun had barely risen, and the alarm wouldn’t ring for another 10 minutes.
Obviously, this was cause for investigation. I stumbled down the stairs and was greeted by this note.
Son #1’s handiwork. I’d suspected as much. Clearly, in his rush to get out the door, spelling was not his top priority. And wait a second! Shovel?! As in, we could possibly have enough snow in which to need to shovel? I had just finished telling the boys the night before that since it hasn’t really been below freezing yet, any snow would melt because the temperature of the ground would be too warm for it to stick.
So me and my bare feet stepped on to the porch to further investigate. Yep. Snow to the left of me.
Snow the to right of me. Shows you what I know about the ground temperature. Besides, I live Up North. Snow Happens.
FYI–at this point, I had been up for all of 35 seconds. However that was plenty of time for Son #3 to awaken, assess the situation, and race into to every bedroom singing his own little Song of Snow. He’s an exuberant child.
Then it hit me–all of the snow gear was still tucked away in the storage bins! Son #1 was probably out in the snow in nothing but his pajama pants and a hat; it’s happened more than once.
Son #1 was here.
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