My kids and I have two kid buddies over for part of the day (because, after all, parents still have to work, and I have no article deadlines looming and my husband, who worked from home yesterday, said, when he found out 4 kids would be here today, “I think I’ll drive to work”—in Burlington).

Until 15 minutes ago, the house was feeling rather small, so I sent the kids to Elizabeth Park on their own—two 11½-year-olds and two 9-year-olds without walkie talkies or a cell phone. What I envision is someone going down the slide on a sled (yes, they plan to do this) and conking their head, but I’m trying to banish the image. In my parents’ day, folks wouldn’t have given kids on their own a second thought, and we would have roamed the region and likely come home after dark, and if we’d conked our head along the way, so be it.

But I am a millennium parent, and we think about these things, whether we should or not. Still, I need to be here to connect with Grandpa—the kids don’t know—who is bringing presents and might not have another chance if this weather keeps up (he has to drive 17 miles on rural roads), and quite honestly, I could use a moment. But after things are stowed and I’ve had my moment, I’m headed out to play in the snow with the kids. Not to check if anyone’s conked themselves. Really.