Big Adventures for Tiny Humans, No. 5
I wrote about this snow-filled experience with Louisa back when she was barely two. She’ll be four next week. I’m not sure why I left it sitting in “drafts” all this time, but her sense of joy and presence have been lovely reminders to me as we navigate such uncertainty in the world these days. May her excitement (and the memory of mundane errands) lift you up today.
We have errands to run, but the snow is fresh outside. Wet, heavy, icy; beautiful and fresh to a toddler. She wears snow boots so she can walk from the car to the store. I try not to cringe thinking about how wet the backseat is going to be.
She spends the car ride reminding me she's going to walk and that she'd like to throw snow in air! way high!
ok! we'll find a good spot! Is there any chance she'll forget about playing in the snow mid-errands? Not a chance.
As we park, throw snow in air! way high! find good spot. I gather my things and lift her out; immediately, she moves toward the freshly plowed snow pile at the front of the parking space. Surveying it for a minute, I encourage her that she can throw the snow. No, find good spot. Who knew she was so discerning about good snow.
We walk toward the store, grab a cart, and I'm about to lift her in when I see the spot. Off to the side, a sidewalk leads to the street. Thick snow covers a raised area that wants to be a flowerbed, just right for a toddler to stoop and throw.
She waddles over in her clunky snow boots and evaluates the situation. She looks up at me throw snow? yes, yes, go ahead! Mittened hands reach down and scoop, then suddenly the snow is in the air, on her hat, stuck to her face, clinging to her jacket. The smile is huge as she uses snow-covered mittens to bat the cold flecks off her cheeks.
We brush it off, marvel at the fun, climb in the cart. Groceries purchased, I wonder if one encounter with freezing snow on her cheeks is enough. Out of the cart, we walk toward the car, and she beelines for the good spot. Hesitation. She bends, considers, grabs my hand and we continue to the car.
just a quick drive to one more store.
throw snow in air? find good spot.
yes, we can do it again.
Around the corner, we park and unload. Again, the parking space snow isn't quite right, so we walk toward the store and find another secluded patch of snow. throw snow, no face. ok, try throwing it in front of you instead of up high. Could she possibly understand that direction without putting my own un-mittened hands in the snow?
Scoop, hold, small toss not high enough to get on her head and face, clapping mittens. She looks at me with a huge smile and we head inside. As we leave, she goes to the good spot one more time: scoop, toss, clap, smile.
Walking to the car I wonder if this is what all visits to snow-covered parking lots will look like in the coming week, but then cheerios? She's moved on to the next joy, and I'm the one smiling at how much fun these errands ended up being.
