Opening Day

This has been a long.... long.... winter. Too many days with the kids home from school because of cold weather. Record snowfall, record cold. We started out March with more snow. My mom's voice ringing in my ears, "In March the wind blows down the door, and blows my soup upon the floor..."

Now, March 14, finally, temps in the 40's and it feels like summer. Archer has been begging for days to bring his bike up out of the basement so he can cruise the neighborhood but I've been putting him off. Its just so cold out. Today, he took matters into his own hands and started to bring it up himself. He would have probably made it, if not for the little (or big?) scare downstairs. I know he wants to say ghost, haunted, some kind of scary story. But he knows better than that, he wouldn't say it to me but he was terrified. His story got me secretly scared and I almost wouldn't have gone down if it weren't for Shelly, she wanted her bike too so she led the way. I didn't let on about how I was quaking inside, we dug her bike out from under all the bigger bikes (why do we have 47 bikes down there???), grabbed E's little wooden bike under one arm and Shell's under the other and climbed back out of the dungeon basement. Only glancing back over my shoulder once to make sure nothing was following us.

A quick rush to find shoes, sweatshirts, helmets and then... Silence inside the house for about twenty minutes while they enjoyed their newfound freedom. Speed, coasting, peddling, tight circles and wide turns and enjoying the wind in their faces and the sun in their eyes. Twenty minutes. The wind finally crept in under their sweatshirts, tummies growling because its been thirty minutes since they last ate, they eventually all came in hungry and freezing nearly to death.

Opening Day for the biking season didn't last too long, but the kids have been out, the bikes are in the garage and there's no going back to the basement now. Spring, Summer, something with warmer temperatures is on the way!!

In March the wind blows down the door
And spills my soup upon the floor
It laps it up and roars for more
Blowing once, blowing twice
Blowing chicken soup with rice

~ Maurice Sendak