Gunnison/Crested Butte Colorado Family Activity Guide Winter 2006
Features

Recipe For A Winter Day
By Shelley Read

Powder days take on a whole new meaning when you've temporarily traded in your skis for a diaper bag. It may not be the Headwall, but a simple journey into the great white (front yard) with your little one can still be an adventure. Just follow this age-old recipe...

  • One fresh snowfall
  • One toddler
  • One Mommy
  • One large dose of unbridled joy
  • One tiny pair of long underwear
  • One tiny pair of fleece pants
  • One turtleneck (Note: If the extra millisecond this requires to go over the head causes panic and sorrow, then any long-sleeved shirt will do)
  • One favorite fleece pullover
  • Warm socks, not too itchy, or thick, or crooked, or short, or long, or the wrong color or otherwise unpalatable any way
  • One fabulous sense of humor
  • One brightly colored snowsuit, extra-padded for comic effect
  • Four mittens, two to begin, two for replacement after the first are lost or soggy
  • One outrageous fleece hat
  


Shelley Read photo. © 2006
Click for larger photo.

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  • One soft scarf
  • One pair of big, silly sunglasses
  • Two pair snow boots: The pair worn last year you are just sure will still fit, and the next size up hand-me-downs you'll need to fetch from the attic when the "too tight!" howling begins
  • Sunscreen
  • Tissues
  • Blankie
  • Sippy cup
  • Snacks
  • Snacks
  • Snacks
  • One inordinately large block of time, primarily for getting out the door
  • Your own warm stuff (optional)

Begin upon rising. Peek under the blinds with your toddler. Mix well with several cups of unbridled joy. Remove jammies; chase naked, squealing toddler from room to room with above clothing ingredients. Immediately begin using generous amounts of fabulous sense of humor.

Layer child until she resembles a colorful marshmallow and is freakishly stiff and heavy upon lifting. Lug to front door, place hat on head at the exact angle of the child's liking. Attempt to place the thumb in the thumb place of the mittens. (Spend no more than fifteen minutes on this task or child will become sweaty and hostile.) Carefully apply 1/4 teaspoon sunscreen, coming nowhere near the eyes so as not to be accused of misapplication. Search the house for sunglasses, remembering that no nook or cranny is unlikely (dad's underwear drawer? cat food bag?). Once found, negotiate with child to actually wear them. Reapply hat and mittens that are now on the mudroom floor, and reattempt to place thumb in the thumb place. Wrap scarf around little neck, wrap again when told it is too tight, wrap again when told it is too loose. Abandon scarf. Wedge on first pair of boots; quickly retrieve second pair of boots, employ whatever persuasion tactics recollected from your college marketing class to coax on the new boots. Rejoice in small victories. Place blankie, tissues, snacks, and drink in backpack. Open door. Oooooh and aaaaaah!

Step forth into the winter wonderland. Pick child up after first tumble, likely to occur upon initial contact with slippery front porch. Comfort the sobbing mass of fleece and Gortex: Your beloved child is in there somewhere. Excavate tissue from backpack, wipe, blow, wipe; and then stuff drenched tissue in rear pocket of your jeans. (Picking its small, soggy shreds out of the washing machine later will offer you an opportunity for quality "alone time.") Distribute first round of snacks and drink. DO NOT REMOVE MITTENS. Reapply mittens. Step off porch.

Step back on porch. Open door. Return to mudroom and remove outerwear from child top down. DO NOT REMOVE MITTENS. Carry laughing child down the hall. Sit laughing child on potty. Sing while waiting. Tell stories while waiting. Appreciate waiting while waiting. Celebrate what finally comes out. Carry laughing child back to mudroom. Redress child from top down as above, employing second pair of mittens to replace first pair left on bathroom floor. Open door. Oooooooh and aaaaaaaah!

Step forth into the winter wonderland. Hold tight to one another past the treachery of the front porch. Together make one perfect, beautiful, absolute gem of a snowball, roll it and form it and smooth it as if it's all that matters in the world. Admire it. Cradle it. Toss it back and forth. Eat it like an apple, as instructed. Then, comfort crying child who has belatedly changed her mind about the whole apple thing and wants her snowball back. Attempt to make another ball out of the endless supply of snow all around and employ your fabulous sense of humor when this new snowball simply can't compare to the one you so savagely devoured. Offer blankie. Offer snacks and drink. Wipe, blow, wipe, stuff. Reapply mittens.

Stir in remaining unbridled joy by flinging yourself backward and making a snow angel. Toss your now laughing toddler next to your angel to make a snow sausage. Stand together hugging tightly and admire your artwork. Finger her name in the powder and draw a big heart around it. Catch and study a single snowflake. Awe at the diamonds glimmering on the surface of your yard. Kiss your child on the tip of her tiny, pink, juicy nose. Say "yes" when she asks to go inside for hot chocolate. Return to the mudroom. Remove outerwear from top down, including the mittens. Thank the universe for winter days and inordinately large blocks of time to be someone's Mommy. Wipe, blow, wipe, stuff.

Now that Shelley Read is finished raising her own toddlers, she is the Director of the Slate River School where she sometimes still gets to happily help small people put on their mittens.

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