“Eat snow, Shredder!”
Tax Credit #4 and I spent the afternoon playing in the snow yesterday.
We’ve received a fair amount of white stuff over the last couple weeks, which is awesome. It provides opportunities for the types of memorable, enriching activities I want our children to experience.
Like redneck sledding.
And snowball fights.
For me, it’s hard to imagine a childhood void of the thrill of scooping up a handful of fresh, wet snow, packing it as tightly as you possibly can, and drilling a fellow human being directly in the face from a painfully-close range.
However, with a little guy like Tax Credit #4, snowballs and snowball fights have a little different feel to them.
Here are some helpful guidelines for snowballs and toddlers.
1. You’ll need to make all the snowballs for the child because mittened toddler hands are as useless at tits on a crow.
I don’t really understand what that means, but Kick Ass Wife’s grandmother says it all the time and she’s awesome. So I love it.
Anyway, each time #4 attempted to fashion a snowball with his club-like mitts, he became increasingly agitated.
“THIS SNOW’S BROKED!” he finally yelled.
So I corrected his grammar and piled up a pyramid of power-packed projectiles he could use for his personal arsenal.
Which he decided to snack on.
2. Beyond making snowballs, your only other contribution is being a target.
I know it seems snowball “fight” would suggest two opposing sides with the expectation that both are trying to hit the other, but that’s not how it works.
WARNING: DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT HITTING THE TODDLER WITH A SNOWBALL.
No matter how light and playfully I toss snow at Tax Credit #4, he acts as though he’s been struck down with a bowling-ball sized ice bomb anytime snow so much as grazes him.
TC#4: “DAD! WHY’D YOU DO THAT!”
ME: “Because we’re having a snowball fight?”
TC#4: **TANTRUM**
Snowballs: It’s what’s for snack.
And if even a single crystal of snow accidentally comes in contact with an exposed surface — say his neckline just above the collar of the coat — it’s meltdown city, baby. Game over.
No, if you know what’s good for you, this melee will involve you standing stock-still while the toddler pelts you — ironically – with the snowballs you made.
And remember, a toddler is about waist-high to the average adult, meaning the most-likely place of impact will be your groin.
TC#4: “Gotcha!”
ME: **COUGH** “You sure did!” **COUGH**
Believe me, even while bundled up in a snow suit to the point of almost zero dexterity, a 3-year-old can throw with a surprising amount of velocity, so don’t pack the snowballs you’re making for your child to throw at you too tightly.
3. Suggest you and the toddler team up to throw snowballs at the groin of a third-party target, like a tree.
After several direct shots below the belt, I decided it was time to come up with some type of game that didn’t involve so much abuse.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said, spitting up blood, “Let’s pretend that tree is Shredder and we’re Ninja Turtles!”
“Oh, yeah!” Tax Credit #4 is all about the Turtles, so luckily for me he was all-in.
At this point, he’d exhausted his first cache of snowballs — all of them having been either eaten or hurled at my crotch — so I sat down to make more ammo.
And ice down my snowballs.
I tell ya, if toddlers would just hit you in the face like they’re supposed to, snowball fights would be a lot funner.
