We woke up to the snow falling.
It meant that we didn't need to rush for the bus. And we didn't need to get something cooked for the teacher's luncheon and we didn't need to run out and do errands. Because we couldn't. And that's just fine by me. Instead there has been a little cleaning and a lot of snow play. Daddy is picking up some chocolate chips at the market (if there are any left!) so we can make toffee brittle this afternoon.
I love snow days. Sure, after the bizzillionth day of it in a row, it gets a little old, but the first snow day of a year is always wonderful. Soup on the stove, kids shrieking outside with glee, logs crackling in the fire.
The bathroom will not get done this week. But who cares? It's snowing outside. There is a basket full of yarn and last projects to finish sitting on the couch and a little girl who is ready for a break from the cold and wants to watch The Sound of Music. There is eggnog and fruitcake in the fridge, peanut butter and bread in the lockers, and that particular light coming in the window that only happens when the snow if falling. I think this might be my idea of heaven...