Feb 08
9
Snow Cave
Posted by Stephen9
Tags: Daniel, fun, Joel, play, snow, winter
Last weekend I attempted to make an igloo. It turned out more like a castle turret, but it was fun to build. In the intervening week we’ve had a partial thaw followed by more snow. The thaw melted most of the remaining snow in the back yard. There hadn’t been much left anyway, after building the tower. The tower itself, big mass that it was, didn’t melt much. Rather, the walls sagged in on themselves. I had tried to give them an inward lean anyway, and the thaw just intensified the effect. But the structure didn’t collapse. Later, with more snow, the cracks filled in and it solidified into something much closer to an actual igloo. A ghetto igloo. More like a snow cave with a chimney, but at least it had a proper entrance and roof.
I went out with the boys this afternoon to investigate the possibilities. I used my shovel to enlarge the opening until Daniel could crawl in and out unhindered. Inside, the roof was barely high enough for him to fully sit up, let alone stand, but the space was big enough across for him to lie down stretched out. He helped me clear snow debris out from the interior.
Meanwhile, Joel was trying to climb the outside of the igloo to look down the chimney at Daniel inside. Daniel had barred the entrance to younger brothers, and Joel, in true Big Bad Wolf style, figured that if he couldn’t get in at the front door he’d try the chimney. The steep, slippery walls were a problem, though. I used his small shovel to carve a set of stairs in the side of the mound, and showed him how to climb them. He clambered up and peered in through the hole in the top. Daniel was most intrigued. He had tried to exclude his brother, hoping to keep the igloo all to himself, and now Joel had something even more interesting. How did he get up there? I showed him, and then had to explain that these were Joel’s steps, and besides, the steps weren’t big enough for the two of them.
I could see unhappiness brewing. The igloo was big enough, so I carved a new set of steps on the other side. Now both boys could climb to the top and peer down together. It didn’t take long before the steps were kicked and worn smooth. Soon they resembled a slide more than steps, and the boys just couldn’t keep their footing. I re-cut the steps and showed them how they had to take care or else the steps wouldn’t hold. For the rest of the afternoon they clambered up those steps at great speed. They’d gotten the point though. I didn’t have to re-cut the steps again.
Daniel climbed right up on top, over the edge, and in his best Santa Claus imitation tried to go down the chimney. He got about as far as his hips and stuck fast. Looking through the entrance I could see the toes of his boots dangling from the ceiling. He didn’t seem too concerned with his predicament, but was eager for rescue all the same. I pulled him free and slid him down the front face of the igloo. And a new game was born.
The boys would climb their steps, pull themselves over the top, and slide down the front to the ground. Run around to the steps and repeat. Endlessly. Daniel, as usual, was the daring one, leaping off into space without a moment’s thought. Joel was much more cautious. He’d stand at the top and take his time gathering his nerve to leave the safety of the top step and allow gravity to take over. Daniel would complete three slides to Joel’s one.
And that took up the whole afternoon. Next winter’s project: a ski hill so I can teach the boys to snowboard.
Eventually it was dinnertime and we had to go indoors. Joel chose this time to stand unfortunately close to Daniel’s shovel, and got whacked in the face (unintentionally) for his temerity. Why do so many fun afternoons end in tears? Joel was sent inside to be tenderly ministered to by Mum, while Daniel received an impromptu lesson in safety and snow shoveling technique. By the time we sat down to eat Joel’s tears had dried and he was his usual cheerful self. No resentment, no grudge. You know what they say: if it doesn’t kill you it builds character.
