The other day we set out for a family snow day in the Callaghan Valley. After spending the morning gathering gear, ducking off to buy a sled, preparing lunches, getting teeth brushed and packing the car, we finally depart. Now mid morning, I plot snacks and lunch schedule times while complaining about the cost to bring our family for a simple sled. While my brain is worrying about impending meltdowns with a late lunch and working out a naptime for our youngest, my kids are gazing at huge, fluffy snowflakes falling. They are seeing a whole ‘mountain’ to slide down and giggling over sleds that spin.
About the time they peak the Everest of snowbanks, then ‘Weeeee’ all the way down by bum, I finally take note to follow their lead.
First step? Just stop.
Second. Breathe in.
Oh would you look at that, the fluffiest snowflakes I ever did see.
Third. Scale a mountain.
Fourth. Barrel down on my bum.
Listen, as parents we can’t not plan and prepare. The day wouldn’t have been nearly as successful without mittens and sleds afterall, but we need to learn when to stop planning too. So I forgot some fruit for lunch and Daddy forgot to put on one crucial layer (the diaper!) We regroup, switch it up a little and get back to what really matters.
Family and friends.
And a whole lot of laughter.
“If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructable that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things that are artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.” ~Rachel Carson