I’d ask my children how many snow days we’ve had in the last week and a half, but they’ve both forgotten how to count. I’m not worried about their education though. While your children enjoy their summer off, my kids will still be in school doing important things like counting stuff.
There’s easily two feet of snow outside, and the plow-made snowbanks tower high above our heads. Soon it will be up to zero degrees. Still not quite warm enough to have the kids go out and play. So inside we remain, carefully navigating over toy strewn floors in our pajamas and slippers. I vaguely remember real pants. There’s something about a button, right?
I might have shed actual tears when I got the text about the latest cancellation. I definitely swore creatively and glorified the ’80s when we went to school no matter fucking what.
It’s hard on the kids to face so much unexpected downtime. The excitement has worn off; they’ve become snow day weary. TV has lost its luster. iDevices fail to entertain. Literally anything is worth fighting over.
As hard as it’s been on all of us, it’s been hardest on the house itself. All this forced time inside together has been strenuous for our habitat. The make-a-snack/make-a-mess/clean-it-up/repeat process has rendered my kitchen crumby, sticky, and out of all the good snacks. The outlets feel overworked from the constant need to recharge a phone or tablet. The sofa’s had no time to refluff. The floors just plain can’t be seen. If the Keurig goes on strike, we’re all in trouble.
Our involuntary confinement will come to an end soon and we’ll return to the outside world. We will all emerge from our respective messy homes, chafing in our real pants, rubbing our eyes at the bright sky. Our children will be reminded how to count and will remain in school until July. And our homes will rejoice in their long missed vacancy. Until then, we wait out our sentence in familial isolation. Good luck to us all.