Snowy Saturday.

It's been a challenge for my little ladies, resuming this formidable school routine after a lazy and leisurely two-weeks off. Waking to the shrill of the alarm clock at seven hundred hours has not been gently received. In fact, it's a wonder the Snooze button still works at all, considering how it's been hammered and sworn at, lately. And so this reticence at rising from their warm, cozy beds has made our regular morning drill of preparing for school a rather slow-motion affair.

I have to detour here, and show you this breath-taking sunrise, captured one morning this week.

Beautiful, isn't it? My heavenly Father painted that sky. I love His daily reminders to me of His goodness. "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not; they are new every morning." Lamentations 3:22-23.

Back on track. So... besides all the extra coaxing required on my part to get the little ladies moving, I've been fighting a cold. A nasty, sputtering, sneezing one. But I played tough this week, battled the self-pity. Determined not to miss work. Knowing that, come the weekend, I could sleep in. And hopefully shaft this horrible bug.

Saturday came.

Startled by unusual rustling in the darkness of our bedroom, I snuck open one eye, glanced at the alarm clock. Six forty-four am. What in the world?

And this is just what was causing all the excitement.

"Mom! Dad! It's snowing outside! Can we please go out and play?" came the whispered voices.

At least they said "please". But at 6:44am?!

The subsequent thoughts that came to my mind could never be blogged. It was obvious that at this ungodly hour, neither Stew nor I were entering into the thrill at hand. I grunted with disdain. Rolled over. The little ladies were shooed away. Told to go back to bed.

As if.

Instead they crept downstairs. Made us some toast and scrambled eggs. Brewed us some coffee.

Talk about flipping the script. They were now the ones cajoling us out of bed. Enticing us with the aroma of breakfast. And in slow-motion, we wearily surrendered.

By eight thirty, they had their snow gear on, went bounding outside, and were soon rolling around in the white stuff. I donned my winter boots, coffee in one hand, camera in the other, and headed out to join them. How could I not?