“Ray, can you go teach the kids how to cut out snowflakes?” Macy called from her home office.
Ray sighed. “Why do I have to do it?”
“Because you’re their father, and I have work to do!”
Ray sighed again.
“Stop sighing, Ray, and just do your damn fatherly duty.”
Sighing a third time, Ray pushed himself off the sofa and said, “Okay, kids, time to learn how to cut out snowflakes.”
“Yaay!” the two toddlers shouted.
Ray gathered the scissors, then took the kids out to the hallway. “Show you cutting out snowflakes,” he muttered under his breath as he tugged on Rudy and Didi’s snowsuits and boots. He threw his own coat on, then ushered them out onto the snow-covered lawn.
“Alright, kids, here’s what you do. You have to be very careful. Very precise. Take your scissors, and just snip snip snip until you get one tiny little snowflake. It takes awhile, but you can do it. Just focus on one little bit. I’ll do one with you.” He bent down and started cutting at the snow with his scissors, reducing the size more and more until he had a tiny fleck left.
Rudy and Didi followed suit, trying to get it smaller and smaller. Once engaged, Ray said, “Okay, keep at it. I’m going to go start getting your hot chocolate ready.” When he got to the main door, he turned and said, “Oh, and stay on the lawn.”
Macy came down at the second ringing of the doorbell. She could hear the football game out in the living room, and was surprised to see her two children holding their mittened hands up to her.
“Our snowflakes are all cut out!” they said together.
Macy turned to the hallway and shouted, “Ray!”