Snow

“Mum! It’s snowing,” Kit called, rushing inside all excited.

We live in Perth, Australia. It doesn’t snow here. Ever. It doesn’t even try. In fact, it is as if snow has a phobia of Perth. Perthverts (as they are affectionately known) consider 10 degrees Celsius to be ‘freezing’.

“Kit, it’s the middle of spring. It’s 30 degrees!” I exclaimed.

“I know. It’s weird. It must be climate change,” he continued, “They say that it will create more extreme temperatures. It might be 30 degrees now, but it must have been freezing two minutes ago.”

“Um,” I said.

“Look. I’ve got snow on me,” he persisted, proudly displaying his shoulder, which, admittedly was covered in a white substance. The penny dropped.

“Kit,” I began, “Were there any birds around when it was snowing?”

“Yeah. There were heaps of seagulls,” he admitted, “Why? Do they like snow?”

“Well,” I said carefully, “If you look at the ‘snow’ on your shoulder, do you wonder why it isn’t melting?”

“It’s probably really good quality snow,” he replied.

“Actually, I think that what is on your shoulder is something that came out of a seagull,” I said politely.

“Oh,” he said.

He thought about it for a bit, “You mean its bum?” he asked.

“How come you never told me that’s where snow comes from?”