Maybe That Was a Mistake

I shook the snow globe and dropped to one knee to show my daughter. “Do you see the snow falling on the little village?” She nodded.

I handed her the globe and she shook it, sending the snow into another flurry. “But where are all the people?”

“Oh, they’re all inside their little houses. It’s so cold and snowy there that they want to stay by the fire,” I said. “Or they’re in the kitchen, making something delicious.”

“How many are there?”

“Oh, lots,” I said. “A whole town’s worth of families, some with little girls like you.”

“So when it’s summer, will they come out and play with me?”

“I bet they’d like to, but it’s always winter in there.”

“No summer? Can they come visit us in the summer? I bet they’d like the summer.”

“Sorry, honey. They’re stuck in the snow globe.” I put it back on the shelf. Her eyes followed it with a sad look I misinterpreted. “Don’t worry. You can look at it whenever you want. Just ask.”

And that bit of fancy is probably why I woke up at two am to the sound of breaking glass and my daughter shouting “Be free!”