Looking out my bedroom window at the first measurable snow of the season usually brings so much joy because I love seeing a winter wonderland appear right before my eyes.
Not this morning.
In the mad rush to get everyone out the door, knowing my commute would extend way beyond two hours, my youngest announces, “My boots were stolen.” The rush came to an immediate standstill. It seems, at least according to her, a classmate with the exact same boots took her boots at the end of last winter and Zoe decided she didn’t need to even mention it because the snow was gone and she wouldn’t need the boots. Until today. Of course, when I packed up the snow gear, I didn’t notice they were absent, either.
Since I recently donated all the other boots and shoes to a charity shoe drive for needy children, I suddenly found myself without even an outgrown backup pair. I felt like crying when I looked at her sad little face telling me she wouldn’t be able to go out for recess because she didn’t have boots.
What kind of mother doesn’t prepare for the first snow?
We’ll be out tonight looking for boots for Tuesday night’s predicted big snowfall-if there are any boots left behind by the better prepared mommies.
While I’m at it, I should probably make sure the snow pants still fit.
