We were so full of hot air

It’s winter and cold, but instead of staying in bed wrapped up in blankets we try to get up ahead of the other kids. Why? Because we heard the furnace kick on, sort of like a starting gun for the race to claim the best registers – the holes in the floor with the metal grates where the hot air comes out. The two best ones are in the living room and are worth fighting for. There we sit, knees pulled up to our chins, pajama or t-shirts pulled over our legs and held tight to the floor where we sit squatted, trapping all of the hot air inside the shirt. We might be savvy enough to allow a younger sibling to temporarily sit on the one we first claimed – so nobody else tries to steal it while we run to the bathroom. They are thankful to be the chosen one, however momentary, who gets both the luxurious warmth and the honor of saving big brother or sisters spot. We could even manage to eat breakfast where we squat, squeezed behind the chair near the laundry room door or beside the couch near the window – but getting dressed for school there was nearly impossible. Sooner or later the furnace would take a break and the hot air flow would stop and we would scramble to finish getting ready for the bus. Boy, we hated to give up our precious hot-air T-shirt tents.