This will be the BIGGEST STORM OF THE YEAR. Sigh. We have JUST ENOUGH ROCK SALT to get us through this one last storm, so seriously winter, enough. Just enough. I will not be purchasing another bag of salt.
That's enough with the caps lock.
I'll bet you didn't know that we can control whether or not there is a snow day tomorrow. And it's not even with an algorithm, although I can certainly forgive you for thinking that based on the picture above.
But anyway, it seems we can control the weather. And also, you can too. Aside from the obvious - the weatherman announcing a foot of snow, my second and fourth graders informed me that if you wear your pajamas inside-out, put a spoon under your pillow, and flush the toilet three times, school will be cancelled. Magic. My brother seems to think it needs to be a soup spoon, but the girls are sleeping and I'm not waking them to tell them they have the wrong spoons.
Also, you know what else is magic?
The twelve-year-old has a math test tomorrow (but if he listens to his sisters and dances around flushing toilets and hiding spoons, then maybe not) and he needed some math help. Josh is away at a long meeting, and my kids know better than to ask me to help with middle school math. So I enlisted my father to help - he always knew the math when I was in school, so what could go wrong?
So he and the boy are Facetiming and math(ing). They are laughing together, as if math is funny. They are having a grand 'ole time, learning it together, and solving equations. And I'm sitting at the other end of the dining room table, trying to understand the sounds I am hearing, and feeling very confused. Laughing? Smiling and math? Finally, I couldn't sit idly by anymore - I had to know. So I stuck my face in front of the phone, and as politely as I could, questioned my father: Um, what is this laughing sounding thing you are doing? Why are you not yelling and throwing a pencil at the boy?
I don't understand, are my memories that messed up? Did my father and I laugh over math? No. We did not. My mind is intact. We most certainly did not laugh, and there was most certainly yelling and tears (it doesn't matter anymore who did which). But you know what - grandparenting deserves to have its perks, and it seems it does. Maybe I won't make my grandchildren eat their vegetables, and we'll laugh together over donuts. Josh can laugh with them over math.
I'm off to bed.
I'm bringing a spoon for under my pillow, just in case.
I'll ask Josh to flush three times on his way up.