Listening to: Ohio Players, Gold
Beastly cold; not early December cold but a February cold that kept us inside as if stepping outside would flash freeze flesh and leave it for dog kibble. Except, the dog wasn't so stupid to linger long enough to seek out any bits that dropped off had we been dumb enough to venture into the weather.
Our high today was six frikkin degrees, fahrenheit.
So, school closed and too cold to go anywhere, the four of us stayed indoors, punching one another, bouncing toys off of each other's skulls, pigging out on Pop Tarts and Fritos, seeing who would be the first to fire up the chainsaw and make it a real party.
My son was entrenched into a Star Wars movie marathon and knew what he needed to make the whole thing doable:
Zeke: Daddy, do you have any hot chaw quat?
Me: Yes, I do.
Zeke: Because I NEED some, because I'm full of juice.
Hot chaw quat made the rounds and while Zeke enjoyed his movies (waving a flourescent straw around as his "light saver"), I spent time with the girls, playing art teacher and pretending to lose at Candyland.
Everyone eventually got out of their PJs and we sped across town so I could work. Reality hit us in the face like chill air. The day with dad in the small house was over and we needed to move on, And moving on is the coldest cut of all.