White Christmas...

Fool me once, fool me twice...

Nagasaki?, Hiroshima? Chernobyl? Exxon Valdez? Yeah, they were worse. But this one is going down in the Siebert family record books.

I was downstairs today (Saturday) moving furniture and laying carpet in our basement. I decided to go upstairs and see how the kids were doing. On my way up the stairs I discovered something that threw my mind into great confusion. A light dusting of white powder was on the upper few stairs. I held my breath and opened the door.

Micah slid past me going rather quickly and seemed to slide forever. I watched him as he slid past me again down the hallway to the kitchen. At this point I felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience. My mind was taking a long time to compute what was actually taking place in front of my bewildered eyes.

The entire kitchen looked like snow had fallen, similar to the fresh snow outside. It was as if someone had left the door open and blown the white stuff throughout the kitchen and all the way down the hall. In the middle of this quizzical snow sat a little albino next to an Australian bushman (again, shirtless). Aslynn & Micah were covered head to toe in flour. An entire 10kg bag of flour lay before them emptied on to the floor. The albino was tossing it into the air and laughing while the bushman just giggled.

I did what any sane man would do - I got the camera. I should've gotten the video camera - this one would likely make AFV. I took a few pictures, still mezmerized. The out-of-body experience ended abruptly when crisis-management man took over. He stripped the children down, dusted them off, and ran them up to the tub with a warning not to splash too much. They still ended up getting the floor soaking wet, but what did I care by that point? I was completely desensitized to any further minor annoyance or mess. They played in the tub contently while I went to clean up the spill.

I started in with a broom and quickly realized that it was futile. I pulled out the heavy artillery - the snow shovel. Once I had made a large drift, I scooped it into the bag and went back for more. The broom came in handy later trying to reach into every nook and cranny that had been hit by the blizzard.

There was flour in the box of oranges, on the pumpkin pies, attached to the fridge, stove, and microwave, the tapestry, and the microwave stand was filled in every imaginable way. The dust covered the walls and the table like a sheet or a tablecloth. Some places you could tell were hit with snowball-like accuracy. Micah later told me he had sprinkled and dropped it by the handful into some of the locations. (He also told me that Aslynn pulled the bag from the pantry, emptied it, and did everything else - I didn't believe him then either - 10 kg bag vs 10 kg girl??)

I went up to wash kids before I was a 1/4 through the disaster zone. I thought I had dusted them off well when I sent them upstairs, but that was only due to the drastic nature of the difference. At least Micah looked semi-brown again before entering the tub. I had neglected to recognize that water + flour = dough. We had two dough-heads. The worst was combing through the kids' hair. Oh, the tears! After the third wash and combing it seemed pointless to make any further attempts. I dried their tears and wrapped them in fuzzy towels. I had hoped that once it had dried, the encrusted dough would crumble out more easily. Aslynn is now dough-free. You try combing through Micah's curls! How do you get gum out of a black child's hair? With scissors...

I disciplined the two rather wet and pitiful-looking culprits and sent them straight to bed without lunch. Besides, how was I supposed to prepare any semblance of a meal in that kitchen? I went downstairs to conquer the insurmountable task, and just kept going to the basement after a second look. I needed a minute to regroup. I thought to myself, What are you teaching me God? What will they be like as teenagers?

Micah's version of the story starts with him wanting to make some pinwheel cookies, so he needed the flour. Aslynn carried the bag of flour into the kitchen - and dropped it! And then Aslynn started playing in the flour, and by that point there was no reason to tell Daddy what had happened...

We may have to sift flour for a few months for hair or fuzz. Fortunately the floor had been swept the day before. After a 4-hour clean-up, it was time to take a break. I left some clumped powder on one wall for Faith's sake. Unbelievable!

- Mark