It's so hot.

Today it is supposed to get to 100 degrees. When I went to the store this morning my neighbor Patricia said that on the radio they were telling people not to go outside in the afternoon, period, for fear of heat exhaustion. "Maybe I'll pick my children up a little early from camp," I said.

I'm on a tight deadline with several other projects, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to republish an old piece again. This is from December, a few years ago, and I'm publishing it to remind myself of the importance of winter, on this boiling hot day, when I can't believe it will ever be cold again, just like in February, when I can't believe we'll ever see another hot day like today.

2008.
Yesterday we had our first snowfall.
"It's snowing!" I said to Liam and Dawson when we opened the door to go down to the coffee shop.
"Oooh, Mommy!" said Liam. "It's like when the leaves snowed down from the tree."
He was referring to a sort of magical moment we had a few weeks ago. It was a blustery October day and the sky was dark, and we were standing on the front porch about to go to school when a gust of wind hit the black walnut tree in the front yard. All of its leaves floated down, a glorious blizzard of deep yellow.
"It's snowing leaves!" Liam said.
"Oh yes!" I said. "Dawson, isn't that beautiful?"
"It's snowing leaves!" said Dawson. Then he said, "Okay, let's go inside. I very cold."

Anyway, we were all so excited about the first snowfall that when we got to the coffee shop Liam told everyone to look out the window and Dawson got down on his hands and knees and kicked up his legs.
"That's my snow dance," he said.
Then he went to get a biscotti, and I told Liam the story of the first time he saw snow. "You were just a little baby," I said. "And I brought you down here to the coffee shop. Mommy was so tired then." It was a pretty tough time. We had just moved to town and into our house, which we couldn't afford to heat. So we were living in the back three rooms of a huge house like a bunch of field mice. We were cold and broke and exhausted and I had just put my foot through the bedroom ceiling while I was up in the attic chasing the cat.
"Anyway," I said. "I brought you down to the coffee shop, and when I held you up to the window to look at the snow you just laughed and laughed and laughed."
I leaned into him.
"I'm so funny," Liam said, leaning back into me. Then he turned around and called his brother a jackack.

Sigh. He started this a few days ago when he was in the car with my husband Tommy.
"Hey," he said. "You jackack!"
"Where did you hear that?" Tommy said.
"Aunt Maria," Liam said. "We were in the car and she said, 'Get going you jackack.'"
"So she said it when she was driving," said Tommy.
"She said it again when we were walking to the library," Liam said.
("I didn't think ever think I'd have to scold anyone other than my wife about swearing in front of the kids," said Tommy later.
"Sorry," said my sister. "The person on the way to the library really deserved it, though.")


So. The first snowfall! All us jackacks are very excited.