Last week, the family experienced our first snow day of 2016. We woke up to 25 cm of freshly fallen snow. No school for the boys and my husband was still on holidays. Bailey and I had a difficult time getting out the door and across the driveway for her to do the morning business. Bailey was quite content to let me blaze a trail through the knee deep snow while she trailed behind. I guess the coldness felt from the snow touching her belly was the reason why Bailey peed in the middle of the driveway. The other three family members rejoiced about sleeping in. I hit the coffee pot first before settling down on the couch to read my latest mystery novel. Bailey settled down for a chew on her stuffie followed by more sleep. She snoozes a lot now. After breakfast, the four of us plus the newf trooped out to begin shovelling snow. I think Bailey was the only member excited to see all that snow. Snow day had just turned into a mega work day for the humans.
I suppose if we were not traditionalists (meaning that we shovel our snow by hand), the job would have been done in a jiffy. We have lived in northern communities for decades and never given into buying a snowblower (I have snowboys after all), using a blade fastened to the front of a truck, or hiring someone else to clear the snow away. For my husband and I, it has become a matter of pride. Our boys see shovelling very differently than us. But, they do agree with our slogan, “The family that shovels together, stays together.” The boys would probably add because no one wants do it on their own. We amassed several styles of shovels to accomplish the task of snow removal – the scoop, the crescent-shaped shovel and the square shovel. One wall of our garage is devoted to hanging these tools as we have multiplies to prevent bickering between members. Everyone has their favourite shovel which we now had in hand exiting the garage. Bailey lead the charge outside, bounding and leaping with glee. It soon became apparent that Bailey needed something to keep her from getting underfoot. The football was passé and now very deflated. I knew just the thing – a soccer ball. Bailey clearly needed a playmate. We agreed that three of us would shovel while the other one would play with Bailey for a set amount of time before switching. The grumbling lessened as Bailey entertained us with her antics. The soccer ball was thrown, kicked, buried, pounced on and even used in a game of tug-a-war. The morning flew by and slowly our concrete driveway began to emerge. We finished in time for lunch followed by an afternoon of rest for Bailey and us.