It’s been a little chilly in the UK this week! We’ve had more snow in East London than we have in years. I love snow – like most people it brings out my inner six year-old.
On Friday, Small’s school was closed as was the husband’s workplace. Sledging was the only option really! But I realised that for now, my sledging days are behind me. So Small and his dad set off for the nearest hills, layered up with their bright red sledge in tow. It reminded me of some amazing snow we had about ten years ago – my husband and I had spent the whole day at the forest with friends, tearing up the slopes. It was wonderful, but the thought of it now makes me reach for a hot water bottle!
I realised that some restrictions my health presents are easier to bear than others. Although a small part of me longed to go with them, I found I was happy to sit at home with Tiny and a friend who had popped in. Watching the snow fall from the warmth of the kitchen, cup of tea in hand, was just magical.
However, having spent almost three days inside, by Friday afternoon I was going a bit stir crazy. Everyone else in the house was napping, working or quietly lego-ing, so I set off for a walk in the local park on my own. I was only gone for half an hour, but I had such a lovely ramble. The park was a deserted wonderland, and I could take it at my own pace – no buggy, no toddler escaping, nowhere to be at any particular time. It felt like a gift – my own little slice of snowy delight, more perfect for me than any amount of sledging.
The Chronic Parent 