It was December. It was days before Christmas, and it was finally snowing! We had tucked our 10 year old into bed hours ago, and being the excellent sleeper that he has always been, he was more than likely, sleeping soundly.
I’ve always held a special love for the Christmas season and the romance that a first snow brings (perhaps because my future self would have two Christmas babies!) So when those fat, white chunks fell from the sky, and the brown earth slipped away under the floof, I ran into his bedroom, summoning E from under his warm, horse-print sheets and dragged him out to enjoy the late-night snowfall.
“Come on!” I shouted out the front door that was reserved for the kind of company that didn’t know us well. I ran and jumped through the snow, feeling so grateful for the opportunity to feel childlike again.
Of course, having been woken from his slumber, the child stood in the doorway beside his father, staring. They muttered things like “well, she’s lost it”, and “what the?”
Eventually, I was cold and wet enough to come indoors, only slightly disappointed that no one shared my joy. As he turned to head back to bed, I asked Big Brother the 4 magical words that seem to have stuck over the years… want some hot chocolate? And just like that, a tradition was born.
I’m sure at this point, I pulled down some sort of ‘Nestle’ crap in a tub, boiled water and mixed the marshmallows- included powder together, but it was the beginning…
We’re 4 kids into this tradition now, and everyone seems to enjoy it. Here’s the recipe I’ve perfected over the years…