White Dream Versus White Nightmare

Remember being a kid and all the simple things that came with the youth and innocence? Wouldn't it be nice if we could keep that joyful bliss in all things small? Instead we get old and curmudgeonly and cynical. If you've ever seen the movie "Grumpy Old Men", well, that's where we're heading folks. (Scary, huh?)

Yesterday morning there was a small coating of snow on the ground. Not much, maybe half an inch (if that). My youngest is now ecstatic. Literally jumping for joy. Why? To wear his snow boots, duh! And what do I do? I instantly pop his bubble, even if ever so gently, by pointing out that he doesn't really need to wear his boots for that itty, bitty amount of snow. I continue on that it's going to be a pain to change shoes at school and he should wait until he really needs it when we have A LOT of snow. Meanwhile, I'm mentally praying this goes over well and he doesn't choose now to be stubborn because we really need to get out the door so we aren't late.

It wasn't until later that the dreaded mom guilt set in. Now I'm thinking, "That poor child just wanted to wear his snow boots. Imagine getting so much pleasure out of a pair of boots and I callously squelched his happiness by talking him out of wearing his boots. What kind of mother does that?" (Seem overly dramatic? Remember the pregnancy hormones that make me weepier than a pubescent teenage girl after her first breakup? Yeah, tons of fun.)

The thing is, we DO lose that innocence. We see snow out the window and our thought process immediately turns to, "Ugh, now I have to let the car warm up even longer or go out there and scrape everything off. I better get the snow brush out of the trunk now. Where are the spare gloves?" Meanwhile, our children's thoughts are more along the lines of, "SNOW!!!! I can't wait to play outside. I wish I didn't have to go to school. I would play in the snow right now! I know, I'll wear my boots to school! It snowed and I'll need boots, not sneakers. My teacher said I could bring my sneakers and change when I get there so it's okay if I wear boots. I love snow!" (Some children may not be that ramble-y, but sadly, none of them belong to me.)

An inch of snow? It looks a lot like this in a kid's mind.

So, the moral of the story is this: Let the kid wear his (or her) damn snow boots! You're not the one who has to deal with hot, sweaty feet or dragging a heavy back pack that has your lunch box, homework folder, and sneakers all jammed into it. Nope, you get to be Super Mom, the one who let your child wear his boots so that the dusting of snow on the ground has zero chance of making his socks damp. Because honestly, wet socks just suck.