Out Cold
Written By KJ Dell-Antonia
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You (and they) might not want to go outside. But you (and they) do need to go outside.
Kids are not polar bears. They're not genetically encoded for snow play. In retrospect, this seems obvious, like so many of the things we learned six years ago after moving from Texas to New Hampshire. Of course we have to rake the snow off the roof. Of course we should constantly be alert for ice dams and the possibility of small mammals hibernating in our attic.
And of course I can't put an 18-month-old child in the snow and expect him to know what to do. That first winter, however, when the first snow fell — all four feet of it — I blithely dressed Sam in his snowsuit, hatted and mittened and swathed him until only his eyes were visible amid down and fleece. I stood him up in the snow, stepped back, and waited for him to frolic.
Sam took one half-step, sank in up to his hips, fell forward, and began sobbing as snow worked its way up his sleeves. I shook him off and tried to get him to play. He refused to build a snowman. He was not amused by snowballs. He didn't want to be pulled in the sled. He wanted to be carried — preferably back in the house.
It would have been nice if some hard, white-haired frost fairy had taken us under her wing and made our transition to New England easier (though far less amusing to our new neighbors). Instead, we had leaks, mystery smells coming from the attic, and a very long winter with a toddler who regarded all snow as out to get him.
Five years and two more kids later, I can say with certainty that our family does not take naturally to the cold. Those kids who run outside at the first sign of flakes? Bigger kids, or maybe other people's kids. Mine pretty much have to be dragged outside and forced to have fun.
Granted, it's not as easy as cranking the heat and firing up the Wii, but I try to get the kids outside every day. The winters here are too long, the house too small, and the crazies far too contagious to spend our days indoors.
With repeated exposure (in every sense of the word), our kids have learned to love snow. We bundle up, we get out there (yes, I sometimes use threats or bribery), we do something, and then we come back in and revel in front of a fire, sipping a hot beverage fortified with marshmallows or perhaps a slog of this-is-just-for-grown-ups-you-wouldn't-like-it-anyway.
Is it as simple as shooing them out the door on a glorious summer day? Nope. But it's not that hard, either, especially if you're prepared.
Accident Prevention
For the potty-training kid, we save everyone a lot of grief with two rules: Pee first, and wear a Pull-Up. (An accident in a snowsuit is a total day-ender.) Also, once a child is dressed, I push him out the door. A kid waiting idly in the hall is a kid who's going to take off his mittens.
Whine Not
Being outside with Lily, 4, is reminiscent of a bad commercial: She has inevitably fallen and she can't get up — every 10 feet. "I need help!" she repeats. "Come back!" Also inevitably, just at the moment I'm going back for her, at the instant I am giving up on the whole outdoor fun quest and plan on heading back inside, Lily gets up. She finds the perfect pinecone and clomps up at top speed so that I can put it in my pocket.
The moral: Kids get used to the cold. They get used to the wet. It might take a forced outing to realize it — say getting locked out of the house (not that that would ever happen to me) — but they get over the initial subzero discomfort. Suddenly, the child who was griping the loudest is the one with the blue lips poling one more black of snow onto her ice castle. "I'm not cold," she insists through the same chattering teeth I recognize from summer at the pool.
Flurry of Activities
For Sam, 7, snow has come to represent novelty, challenge, adventure. He skis and sleds and rolls down hills with abandon. Wyatt, our 2-yaer-old does not love novelty, challenge or adventure. He loves peekaboo and trucks and Goldfish crackers, all of which he can enjoy in the snow. What works for toddlers is snow distraction.
When Sam was Wyatt's age, the first thing he liked about the snow wasn't playing in it, per se, but shoveling it,. He watched, fascinated, as I turned the impassable into something he could deal with, and he wanted some of that. "Let me try" led to our collection of kid snow shovels; the first was just a small one meant to go in the car.
The goal is to come up with things that gets kids thinking more about fun and less about the wind whipping down their backs. The same games and toys kids love anywhere usually do the trick. Cars on a snow track. Dolls pulled in a sled. Hold digging. Building snow cities sometimes even lures Sam back from his heart-stopping attempts to stand on the sled and ride it down the hill.
Defrosting
Getting back in the house is so much easier than getting out. Even Wyatt can take off his own gear, and now I actually want him to (as opposed to outside when he hands me the boot he's grown tired of wearing). The truth is that no one really drinks all of their hot chocolate, but everyone wants it anyway. Lily sleepily asks if the snow will be there tomorrow, and when Sam says, "It will be there for a thousand million days!" it doesn't make me want to cry.
About the Author: KJ Dell'Antonia wouldn't move to Florida if you paid her. (But what's your offer?)
Next: 7 Ways to Have Fun in the Snow
