Snow

A major storm system hits the UK which means one thing: snow! Eitan races into our room, 6:15AM: "It's snowing! It's snowing! It's snowing!" Not even the Manchester United Foosball table from Natasha received this kind of welcome.  Sonnet pre-occupied with the commute as in, like, do I or don't I?  Eventually her worry takes over (the engine of all responsibility) and she pushes herself away to put on her face. Eitan, meanwhile, begs to go outside.  He rouses Madeleine, who normally sleeps for another hour at least, and I have little choice: outside we go.  It is pitch-dark, too, and the street lamps lit - I must beg for quiet as Eitan and Madeleine screech down the deserted block (in the middle of the street, no less) - if nobody up, they are now. Several business men with ties huddle by and give me narry a glance. Nor smile.  Still, watching the little dudes, it is hard not to share their enthusiasim. Eitan makes snow angles. Both build snow-men. Snowball fights. Such simple pleasures and no worries about wet clothes or jammed traffic. All good.

Eitan: "Dad, I am going to make you some tea."
Me: "Thanks, but it is warm."
Eitan:
Me: "Ok, do you know how to make boiling water?"
Eitan: "Of course!"
Me: "So what are the ingredients?"
Eitan: "Uh, water?"
Me: "What else?"
Eitan:
Me: "It begins with 'b'"

Me: "Can you guys name something that kids have that we adults don't?"
Eitan: "A sense of humour."