The world outside their house was eerily quiet. The thick blanket of snow had swallowed every usual sound—the rustling of tree branches, the distant hum of cars, the barking of the neighbor’s dog. Everything was muted, soft, as if the earth itself had taken a deep breath and decided to rest. Even the air had that crisp, clean smell, the kind that made you want to wrap a blanket around yourself and watch the world turn white.

Inside, however, the silence didn’t last.

A shriek of pure, unfiltered joy shattered the early morning peace.

"IT SNOWED! IT SNOWED! MOM! DAD! EMILY! WAKE UP!"

Oliver’s tiny feet pounded down the hallway, and within seconds, he had thrown open the door to his parents’ room and launched himself onto their bed, bouncing like he had suddenly lost all control of his limbs.

Dad groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. "Oliver… buddy… it’s too early."

"Not for snow!" Oliver insisted, yanking the blanket back. His little face was flushed with excitement, his hair sticking up at all angles from sleep. "You have to see! It’s SO much snow!"

A second, considerably less enthusiastic groan came from the doorway.

Emily, standing in the dim hallway light, looked half-dead. Her hair was a tangled mess, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her eyes—barely open—held the unmistakable expression of someone who had been rudely ripped from her dreams.

"Did he have to scream?" she grumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Oliver turned to her, practically vibrating with joy. "Emily! No school! SNOW DAY!"

Emily squinted. "Okay… cool. Can I go back to bed now?"

Dad finally sat up, stretching. "Nope. Because you know what this means."

Mom groaned before he even said it. "Oh, here it comes…"

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. "Dad. Please. No."

Dad grinned. "It’s sledding time!"

Oliver exploded into cheers. Emily sighed so loudly it could’ve rattled the windows.

Mom, who had accepted her fate, swung her legs over the bed. "Fine. But I get coffee first."

Stepping outside was like walking into a completely different world. The street, usually noisy with passing cars and distant chatter, was silent. Snow lay untouched in thick, perfect layers over everything—the driveway, the rooftops, the trees, even the mailbox, which had somehow transformed into a little snow-covered mushroom. The air was still, the only sounds being the occasional plop of snow falling from a weighed-down branch and the faint, almost musical crunch of their boots pressing into the frozen ground.

It was perfect.

For about three seconds.

Then—

"WHEEEE!"

Oliver threw himself face first onto the ground, flailing his arms and legs to make a snow angel.

Dad took a deep breath and nodded approvingly. "That’s the spirit!"

Emily, still not fully awake, shoved her gloved hands into her coat pockets. "Can we just get this over with?"

They trudged up to the sledding hill, where the snow was still untouched, waiting for them like an invitation. Dad wasted no time grabbing a sled, sitting down, and immediately launching himself down the slope with a triumphant "WHOOO!"

Oliver followed, laughing wildly as he sped down after him.

Emily sighed. "Okay. Fine." She climbed onto her sled, gave herself a push, and—

"Oh—oh no—WAIT—"

The sled rocketed forward. She had no control, no brakes, and she definitely did not mean to go that fast. Her yelp turned into a full-on scream as she hit a bump and went airborne for a second before landing with a thud and sliding the rest of the way down.

At the bottom, Dad and Oliver were laughing.

Emily sat up, snow stuck in her hair, her coat, and probably her soul. She looked at them, then at the hill, then at them again.

Then she smirked.

"Okay. That was actually kinda fun."

An hour later, the hill was a battlefield.

Snowballs were flying in every direction. Oliver was a machine, his tiny hands scooping and throwing as fast as possible. Emily had finally woken up and was now using strategic dodging maneuvers. Dad was less coordinated, getting hit far too often.

And then there was Mom.

Mom, the reigning undefeated snowball champion.

"ATTACK!" Oliver yelled, launching a snowball at her.

Mom dodged. Effortlessly.

Dad tried to catch her off guard, but before he could throw, she hit him square in the chest.

"HOW?!" Dad sputtered, staggering back. "You don’t even look like you’re aiming!"

"I am always aiming," Mom replied, coolly dodging another snowball before hitting Emily with a perfectly-timed shot to the shoulder.

Emily gasped dramatically. "Betrayal!"

Dad raised his arms. "We have to work together!"

It was a valiant effort, but ultimately, they were no match. One by one, they fell to Mom’s perfect aim.

Eventually, with frozen fingers and snow-covered clothes, they called a truce.

Panting, Oliver shivered. "I—I can’t feel my face."

Mom clapped her hands together. "Then it’s time for hot cocoa!"

Inside, the warmth wrapped around them as they shed their damp coats and scarves. The house, once so quiet in the morning, was now filled with laughter and chatter. The rich smell of hot chocolate filled the air as Mom poured steaming mugs, each one topped with an embarrassing amount of marshmallows.

Outside, the snow was still falling, blanketing the world in quiet once more.

Inside, the noise of their little family filled every corner, bright and happy and warm.