Sour Cream Snowmen
A few mornings ago, I was letting my wife sleep in. We have a new bundle of joy in the house and both her and the baby were getting a much needed extra bit of z’s.
This new addition means that Dad runs interference with the two older ones at the bright and cheery time of 5:45. As any dad knows with a growing family in a not-growing home, there are seldom few places for tranquility and serenity that quite compare to this one uncomparable location; the bathroom.
As I spent some precious spare moments in porcelain mediation during what I thought was a suspiciously peaceful breakfast being enjoyed by my two toddlers, my oldest comes knocking on the door.
If he could see the look on my face, he would’ve thought that he keyed my car or something.
With no concern in waiting for my “You may approach the throne”, my son peers around the door and starts with a “Hey dad?”
”What’s going on?” I say, with sheer annoyance and little genuine concern for my toddler’s potential problem.
”Well, we were making sour cream snowmen…”
PAUSE
Sour…cream…snowmen?
Surprisingly, my response melted and formed into a genuinely curious, “What does that mean?”
”Come and see.” And I accepted the invitation.
A deep sigh entered my soul when I went to the kitchen and saw my children were simply stacking copious amounts of sour cream containers we’d received from our meal train, and not creating a winter wonderland of sour cream snow men, snow angels, and sledding hills I’d have to clean up (well…they did that a little bit, but not as much as I was afraid of).
Parents know the exasperation of your children doing some “destructive exploring” at the worst times, and to my own shame, I more often than not lean into expressing that exasperation quite obviously.
But on this day, perhaps I just got lucky with my warm, genuinely curious response to my kids; I was sleep deprived after all. Or could it be I’m actually growing as person?
In the kitchen that morning, I discovered a healing balm on a tired heart. I descended into the curiosity and wonder of my kids and found a moment of deep, beautiful joy. Pure, unadulterated joy. Like little Dr. Frankenstein’s, they found a way to bring Frosty back to life. And, to my daughter’s delight, it was with her favorite condiment…“dower dweam”.
Here’s the point. I explored the interruption of sour cream snow men with my kids and it derailed my far less superior plan of a few more moments of meaningless scrolling on my phone in the bathroom.
I wonder what my life would be like if I explored the interruptions and inconveniences with curiosity and possibility rather than anger and frustration? Maybe my plan isn’t actually all it’s cracked up to be; maybe there are detours in life that are actually about saving your soul rather than keeping you from something.
I’ll take the soul over the something.
I’ll take the Sour Cream Snowmen over the bathroom.
Further up and further in,
