I pointed out the falling flakes to him as we walked out the front door.
“You know what that means,” he said in a singsong voice. “It’s Christmas!”
The magic quickly faded as I realized that the roads were getting covered in white.
I rode around with local law enforcement taking snow pictures for a while and then slid my way across town to pick up Wyatt at my parents’ house.
Zac joined us a short time later, and we made the treacherous two-mile trek to our home.
By midday, we were all safely nestled in our little corner of the world and quite aware of how fortunate we were after watching the coverage of the craziness in Birmingham.
For our family, the snow day was a blessing in disguise, an opportunity to make up for some quality time that we lost recently.
I was in a mood to relax, so I resisted the urge to clean up all of Wyatt’s messes after him and just let him destroy the house.
I thought the living room was bad until I heard Zac tell him to keep me out of his bedroom. Of course, I immediately snapped my head around in that direction and Wyatt yelled, “Uh oh! She sees it!”
The most fun we had that afternoon was when Zac and Wyatt broke out our box of board games.
The first one they played was similar to Yahtzee. It involved rolling the dice and covering up numbers on the board based on the results.
Although the rules were simple enough, Wyatt made the game complicated by picking up his dice before Zac could see what he rolled.
I ended up having to hold his hands at his sides to give Zac a few extra seconds to count.
Next Wyatt asked to play chess, a request that surprised Zac but he set up the board anyway.
After a few moves, Zac stopped explaining what each piece is supposed to do and let Wyatt place them wherever he wanted.
Anything goes on a snow day, right?
Although Zac and I were under the impression that we were playing without rules, Wyatt believed that he was in charge.
When I captured one of his pieces in an illegal move, he asked, “What’d you do that for?”
“Because I wanted to,” I replied.
“But I need that!” he informed me, assuming that was reason enough for me to give it back.
Zac kept up this farce for several more minutes before finally declaring Wyatt the winner.
“I win?” he asked, a little more incredulously than necessary considering he had been running the show from the start.
“Yup. And I lose. I’m a loser,” Zac joked.
“And I’m a winner!” Wyatt clarified.
Zac and I spent the rest of the afternoon watching “Invincible,” a movie we recently rescued from the $5 bin.
In one scene, Mark Wahlberg’s friend is explaining why another guy in the neighborhood bar is giving him a hard time about making the Philadelphia Eagles team in an open tryout.
Although he seems to be jealous of Wahlberg’s success, he is actually afraid that his friend is about to turn his back on his old neighborhood.
“You know how it is in South Philly. Our strength has always been in our numbers,” his bartended friend said.
The comment reminded me of the stories that were already beginning to emerge about strangers helping strangers through very difficult circumstances.
For all our fancy technology, we can’t predict the weather correctly, much less control it.
We are at the mercy of all kinds of forces that are much bigger than us. Sometimes our only strength lies in solidarity.