Frosty nose and rosy cheeks
We got up very early in the morning, after a rather sleepless night. Hannah kept coming to my bed and telling me she was having weird dreams, or she was hungry, or thirsty or that her feet had gotten cold.
I would then supply, fix or accommodate the need, tuck her back in her bed, and go back to sleep. Only to rinse and repeat again.
Obviously, by the time the sun rose we were both up, on to the second kettle and polished half a loaf of toasted bread already. Sunny and chirpy, with a big wide smile, you would have never believed the sort of night she pulled on me. But I guess that’s the beauty of young children, they reset every morning and they go as if nothing has ever happened.
Shuffling around the house in pyjamas and cozy slippers, watching the morning light invade slowly all the rooms, and the people starting to wake up, and come downstairs one by one. We welcomed them all, Hannah with her chirpy voice and me, looking like a train just had gone over me…twice.
After much deliberation Hannah decided today was as good as any other day to go outside.
I tried to rebuke, stating minus temperatures, lack of sleep, slightly rusty joints and creaking bones, but her enthusiasm won me over. How can one deny a child who wants to play outside, smell the filtered air through the forest canopy and hear the crunchy sound of their boots on hard snow? Definitely not me.
Being the sucker that I am, I piled knits and layers, tossed her hair into a side ponytail and took her outside. To make vitamin D she said.
We stepped outside the door and the marrow-bone freezer welcomed us with its frosty arms.
It didn’t seem to bother Hannah, that lacking a hat, proper jacket and mittens, she headed straight away for the biggest snow piles, like a hound after prey.
Carefully inspecting the dead-looking rose bushes, the dried arms of the crabapples and suspicious items attributed to Luna. We steered clear of those. Not much to inspect there I said.
The sun took pity on us and decided to shine bright and send some warming rays our way. The charity! We lapped it up, welcoming the light that made everything gleam and sparkle.
Blinded momentarily by the beauty of it, we decided to plop ourselves on the snow and let the cold seep slowly through our backs. Feeling the gentle wind on our uncovered faces, with eyes closed, and hands tossing snowflakes about.
Hannah talking a mile a minute while I just tried to breathe deep and remind myself that children grow up too quickly, not to wish it away.
After makng a suitable amount of said vitamin D, at least enough to warrant surving yet another day, I pleaded with my dollmaster to go inside.
Being stuffed with wool must have its advantages in the boreal winters I say. But since I lack such warming material in my bodily constitution, I better look after myself and try not to let the dolls keep me outside too long, lest we encounter frostbite.
Hannah agreed, mainly because I bribed her with another half a loaf of cinnamon bread. And hot chocolate. And mountains of marshmallows. And a cookie or two. In times of survival, whatever it takes I said to myself.
As we headed home, I took this photo of her. Following me with certainty into the warmth of our house. It reminded me of many walks with my flesh and blood children, how now a few years older I am the one following them back into the house. They are taller and walk faster.
That’s one of the blessings of dolls: they stay little. Always little. Allowing you to connect with your childhood through their childhood, via the magic of play.
Don’t worry for us, no frostbite to be had. We are still working through the loaf of bread and we are back to wearing comfy slippers. We should spend the day in deliberation of ruffles and buttons. Lovely I say, do you agree?
