It’s the first week of December here in Minneapolis and it’s snowing.  A lot.  If you’re scoring at home, today’s heavy snow makes it two large snow days over the past 96 hours.  10 years ago, no one would blink at that.  But it’s been at least four years since that kind of snow has fallen here so soon after Thanksgiving . . . which brings me to my four year old daughter.

Being home today, and with my wife busy with our eight month old little girl, the “big girl of the family”, as she likes to be called, and I went out into the yard to play.  Last year didn’t have that many snow days but for whatever reason, I always seemed to be shoveling, or doing something house-related while my wife played with our daughter.  Today, however, it was my turn.  And a funny thing happened on the way to playing in the snow with her: I suddenly realized I had forgotten how to play.

Oh sure, I play with my girls as often as I get the chance but it always seems to be inside . . . inside, as in getting distracted by phone calls, a repair, a meal, you name it.  Rarely do I get the opportunity to have an extended period of time with them just . . . playing.  At least that’s what I’ve always told myself.

Today, outside, in a heavy but delightful snowfall, it was just her and I.  She, decked out in her pink bib pants, pink coat, pink gloves, pink hat . . . she likes pink . . . and me, really, does it matter what I was wearing.  Anyway, it was just her and I playing.  Well, she played while I tried to remember how to play.

You see, for someone so absorbed with the trip to the grocery store later that day — and certainly, the roads would be a mess — the two phone calls I was waiting on, a return email that had yet to find its way into my inbox, wrapping and packing up family gifts that needed to be taken to the post office . . . let’s face it, I had a lot of pressing issues on my mind that needed to be organized, sorted out and dealt with while playing with my daughter.  The only problem with that plan?  I was doing a lot of standing around while my daughter was going to town.

As much as a four year old could move through large amounts of powder, she was on fire, impossible to contain!  Darting this way and that, climbing up large mountains of previously plowed snow, under a tree making a snow fort, throwing herself into so much snow, it was often hard to see where she was if not for her beautiful laugh, so much a part of who she is, always  guiding me back to her.  Oh . . . in case you were wondering, I was right there . . . watching her.  For the first 20 minutes or so, I was very busy telling her to be careful, don’t go over there, don’t do this, don’t do that . . . just being the protective father, right? 

Finally, she asked me to make a snowman with her.  Naturally, the practical, not wanting her to be disappointed, father that I am explained because the snow was powder, it wasn’t good snowman-making snow.  This, of course, was perfectly clear to me . . . and it should have been to her, too, right?  “Boring, Mr. Dull Boring, party of one, your table is ready . . .” 

(if this was a made-for-tv-movie, insert voiceover here): “It was at this moment, the practical, organized, verrrry busy, 49 year old father woke up and began learning from his daughter.  Incredible, when you think about it.  It took a pint-sized, 100,000 watt, pink ball of energy to lovingly slap some sense into her daddy . . .”

And so it was, she began finding large boulders of snow figuring they would work just fine for the three giant snowballs to create her snowman, and I . . . I . . . I woke-the-hell up.  Finally.  It was as if the trumpets from Heaven sounded signaling to all that The Big Girl in the Family’s Daddy once again remembered how to play.  And play I did!

I jumped right into the fray, grabbing boulders of snow, proudly matching her boulder for boulder.  And the more I found, the more she beamed, saying things like “daddy, I bet I’m gonna find a bigger one than you!”  And of course, she most certainly did find the biggest ones.  She laughed, I laughed, we both fell repeatedly covering ourselves with snow all the while not realizing the falling snow and accompanying wind had nearly doubled.  But it didn’t matter.  This was one of those Moments.  For me, there was nothing else in the world that mattered.  I was having the time of my life, dutifully carrying out orders from Captain Snowman-Maker (or as my wife and I often call her, “Demando Commando”). 

It was snowing so hard, it was hard to find anything that even remotely resembled what a snowman’s eyes, nose, arms, etc. should look like.  But did it matter?  Hell no.  I’d bring a tree branch, she’d give it the thumbs down and I’d go find another one.  I think she got as much joy from barking out snowman orders to her daddy as she did actually playing in the snow.

And in the end, we placed our creation on the front walk-up to our house so that it greeted every passing car. 

It was, without question, the most fun I’ve had in more time than I can remember… and it was the most glorious snowman this side of the North Pole.