How long does it take to put on a pair of gloves?

snowball

There’s something about snow isn’t there that turns us all into a bit
of a kid? Hitting the slopes with my daughters at the weekend I wasn’t
the only foolhardy parent to say “Go on then I guess I better have a
go then.” And it was great, even if I ended up face down after a bit
of oversteer to avoid a collision with my toddler who was wandering
around wondering who had nicked her sledge.
Then there’s the snowball fights. It was like an outdoor therapy
session. It’s the one time of the year when you can fling things at
your other half without being told you need to go on an anger
management course. Although I did feel a bit guilty when my
four-year-old got caught in the parental crossfire and emerged wailing
from behind the parked car where her dad was (cowardly) taking
shelter, looking like a little snowman. My poorly aimed lob had landed
right on top of her head. “Waah, mummy hit me with a snowball!” Well,
take that for waking me up at 5am.
Whilst it’s brilliant when you look out of your window and everything
is all white and pretty, it’s not so great when you actually have to
go anywhere. Generally getting out of the door with two young children
takes long enough as it is and involves of a colourful array of
bribes, empty threats, tears and tantrums. But in winter it just gets
ridiculous.
There’s the waterproof trousers, the extra jumpers, the waterproof
coats, the wellies, the hats, and just don’t get me started on the
gloves. How hard is it to get five fingers into five holes? And then
you can guarantee that once all that is on one of them will decide
they need a trip to the bathroom and we have to strip it all off and
start all over again.
Anyway on Saturday, geared-up like they were trekking off to the
arctic, we finally left the house, sledge in tow. For a blissful
little window of about 30 minutes of frolicing fun I felt this was
what having kids is all about. But then in an instant the youngest
fell face down in the snow, the cold set in and the fun was over and
we were left with dragging two tired, red-cheeked, whinging children
all the way home again. I’m sure they enjoyed it really. Maybe I can
sneak back out one evening when they’ve gone to bed for some flood-lit
sledging?

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