At our house we made snowflakes. Snowflakes until they were coming out of our ears. If our house is anything it's an environment where creativity is not only strongly encouraged, it is often presented as The Thing People Do. People create. It is therapeutic. It is a Good Thing.
And so, when 11-year-old Kaya asked for a pair of scissors to go with her usual stack of white drawing paper and started folding and cutting out snowflakes, her dad found another pair of scissors and joined in.
When they were taking breaks from their jolly mess-making Josh or Naomi wandered over and contributed a flake or two.
In the end we had this:
Kaya and I spent the next couple of weekends with glue sticks and black construction paper and after all is said and done we have a pretty nifty snowflake scrapbook. And while it's not half as cool as real snow (especially if you ask the kids who have basically only seen real snow a few times in their lives and think it's unfair that they live in such an unsnowy place), but it's still pretty darn cool.
