The top of his head clobbers my chin. Suddenly, he steals my nose. Twist. Kick. His tiny hands yank clumps of my hair as he wriggles in. His own flyaway hairs tickle my face as he rests his head below my chin. Snoring husband and squirmy two year old. It's 6:30 a.m., and it's a snow day.
After his shower, I dry him off with a towel and discuss the importance of getting the water drops off of himself before he steps out into the chilly hallway toward his room to get dressed. A moment later I turn to see him pluck imaginary somethings from his towel and place them on his chest and arms.
"What are you picking off of the towel, Jack?"
"I'm putting the eye drops back on me!"
We hold hands while we eat warm, buttered bagels and orange juice for breakfast. Because it is a snow day.
It is amazing how entertaining a vacuum cleaner is. We vacuum the whole house, except for Jack's room. He doesn't want it vacuumed. He asks if his rug can "be cleaned tomorrow, mama."
Later, it's time for cowboy boots and the cowboy hat. Then he re-reads the Christmas cards he stores in his toolbox. Apparently, each one says "Dear Jesus, I love mama. I want mama and daddy. The end."
We sit on the sun room steps to eat cold pizza and watch the snow. Elvis shouts to be let out. He begs to chase a squirrel that has dared to forage in this icy white afternoon. After dashing out into the yard to startle the squirrel that has long disappeared, Elvis realizes he can't make it back to the house because every blade of grass is coated with ice. He stands in the far corner of the yard. We exchange a knowing nod. I sigh. Everyone knows what I'm going to have to do. He waits while I get my shoes. He patiently sniffs a rock or two while he watches me trudge out into the blizzard and carry his ass back inside like a stranded calf ... because it is a snow day.