Snowflakes

I always loved making paper snowflakes. It's easy. It requires no artistic ability. In fact, the more careless and haphazard the cutting, the better your snowflake will look. It's wonderful!

Bryan Nance is tossing little bits of papers at Jessie, the girl he has a crush on. Ryley is blowing all of his snowflake's remains on his neighbor's desk. I'm afraid Reed is going to pummel Ryley, because everyone knows that Reed simply cannot function without a clean "workstation". Karli is on her hands and knees picking up her scraps of paper to show to the teacher--she's always been a suck up. And at the front of the class, Mrs. Christensen is nervously rubbing her forehead, realizing that this fun holiday activity has evolved into a chaotic mess of hyper 3rd graders. The bell rings, and Bryan drops his papers to the ground, Ryley stops his blowing, Reed relaxes, and Karli stomps away from the garbage can (angry because the teacher isn't impressed by the collected garbage). As the bell subsides, everyone runs out of the classroom and to the playground for recess. But I stay at my desk, and continue cutting away at my snowflake, unaware of the chaos that surrounded me, or the brief calm that has now entered the class. I just continue snipping.

Making snowflakes is stinkin' easy. All you need is a pair of scissors and something to cut...like napkins or coffee filters, that 3-page paper you ended up nearly failing because you didn't cite your references correctly, the Pizza Hut coupons you get in the mail every other gosh-darn week, basically anything. Your options are open.


"Miss Mandy, can we make snowflakes?"
"Ehhh. I...don't know if--"
"Miss Chris isn't here, so we won't get caught. AND we'll clean up."
"Gee. I dunno, guys."
"MISS MANDY. IT. IS. CHRISTMAS!"
Well, they did have a point there.

There simply is no way to mess up a snowflake. Honestly. You fold your square in half, diagonally, and begin slicing, hoping for the best.

"You've got time, hurry and make one!" I prod my roommate, who is sitting at the edge of the couch, waiting anxiously for her date to arrive. "Seriously, Annie. It only takes 30 seconds. And it's a pretty sweet stress reliever."
Annie stares at the K-mart add placed before her, and warily grabs a pair of scissors.
"I'm going to mess it up, you know. I've never made one of these. Or if I have, it's been ages."
"Dude, you've got to be kidding me. I'm pretty sure everyone's made them, and it's impossible to mess up." Annie is still unsure about the whole thing.
"The uglier the better, dude."Annie is still hesitant, so I nudge her shoulder, prodding her to begin snipping at the square of advertised K-mart sweaters. Then, all of a sudden, Annie seems confident. Pieces of paper fly across the room as her scissors speed across the square.
"Okay, are you ready for this? It's my first one....ahhh! There it is...almost there....I just need to unfold this...aannnnnd....there it is!" Annie holds up her snowflake proudly. I make a quick face, and then put my smile back on.
"Oh wow. Look at you. It's--it's...unique. Yep. It definitely has...umm...something, that's for sure."
That's the ugliest thing I've ever seen. I guess it is possible to mess them up, after all.