When the snowstorm started, Grandpa closed all of the curtains and locked the doors at the top (so that the children couldn’t reach). He set out snacks and got the really noisy games down to keep everyone busy – keep them from looking outside. The snow stuck to it (the ectoplasm or whatever it was) and you could see just about everyone who’d passed milling about in the yard or pressing against the windows. The little ones weren’t ready for that. “Heck,” he whispered to himself, “I’M not ready for that!” Grandpa didn’t want to see Grandma again until he’d had a proper haircut.