The Living Room Transforms into a Snowy Mountain
It was an ordinary afternoon in the Cooper household — until a pile of pillows and blankets turned the floor into a battleground of imagination. With the swiftness only kids possess, Wyatt and Sebastian declared a state of emergency: they were under attack by boredom. The only solution? Build a pillow fort. And not just any fort — a snowy mountain fortress.
Wyatt, the elder strategist, orchestrated the structure. Sebastian, the energetic engineer, stacked cushions with chaotic precision. When the last blanket was thrown across the top to form a roof, Wyatt stepped back, admiring their creation.
“Dad is the Mountain Now!”
With their fortress complete, it was time to assign roles. Wyatt looked up from behind a pile of pillows and proclaimed, “Dad is the mountain!”
Sebastian giggled and raised the stakes: “Dad is the snow slide on the mountain!”
Before Anderson Cooper — the award-winning journalist and now unwilling terrain — could react, the two boys launched into action. They scrambled up his back like professional mountaineers, squealing with joy.
The Great Slide Begins
With Wyatt perched high on Anderson’s shoulder blades and Sebastian preparing for launch from his lower back, the countdown began.
“Three… two… one… SLIDE!”
And down they went, tumbling, laughing, landing in a heap of pillows. Anderson exhaled loudly, face-down on the carpet.
“Dad is… a mountain about to collapse,” he muttered, barely audible through the boys’ roaring laughter.
Repeat. Again. Again. Again.
The first slide was only the beginning. Like any amusement park ride worth its thrill, the boys demanded repeat experiences.
“Again, Dad! Again!” Sebastian shouted.
“Make it bumpier this time!” Wyatt added.
Anderson groaned theatrically, rolling over only to find four little hands already pushing him back into “mountain position.”
It was futile to resist. The mountain had no choice but to stand — or rather, lie — tall.
From News Anchor to Jungle Gym
Known for his calm, composed demeanor on screen, Anderson Cooper is rarely seen letting loose. But in the privacy of his living room, surrounded by giggling chaos and flying blankets, he was just “Dad.” Not a journalist. Not a CNN anchor. Just a snow slide.
“Careful, the mountain has a spine,” he said at one point, trying to catch his breath while still playing along. But the boys were far too busy slipping and sliding to hear his complaints.
Sebastian’s Snowy Sound Effects
As the slide routine settled into a rhythm, Sebastian added another layer of excitement: sound effects. Each time he descended, he provided his own voice-over.
“SHHHHHHHHH—BOOM!” he cried, throwing himself into the pillow pile with wild abandon.
Wyatt followed suit: “Avalanche incoming!”
Anderson, half laughing and half exhausted, whispered into the floor: “Please… no more avalanches… the mountain’s unstable.”
A Masterclass in Make-Believe
While to an outsider this might seem like a simple game, what happened in that living room was a masterclass in imagination. The boys weren’t just playing — they were creating an entire universe where cushions became cliffs, and their dad transformed into a vital part of the terrain.
They weren’t watching TV or playing with plastic toys. They were using their bodies, voices, and creativity to invent something out of nothing. And they needed Anderson — not as an adult, but as a participant.
Dad as Playground Equipment
There are many things Anderson likely imagined he’d become in life: reporter, host, author. But playground equipment? Probably not on the list.
Still, he embraced the role. He adjusted his position to make the slide more fun. He growled like a mountain rumbling before an eruption. He even added commentary: “This just in — a snowstorm is hitting Mount Dad with full force.”
The boys squealed with joy. “Mount Dad is the BEST!”
The Mountain Speaks
After the twelfth or maybe thirteenth climb-and-slide, Anderson slowly turned over and raised a hand.
“Mount Dad needs a break. Maybe a nap. Or medical assistance.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Mountains don’t sleep, Dad.”
Sebastian offered a compromise. “Okay, two more slides, then cookies.”
Anderson sighed. “Fine. But next time, Mom is the volcano.”
A Moment Worth Remembering
These fleeting moments — a child’s laughter, a father’s groan hidden under a smile, the warmth of a shared afternoon — are what define family life. No script. No camera. Just real, unscripted joy.
Anderson might forget the pillow configurations. The boys will outgrow sliding down their dad’s back. But they’ll remember how he played, how he became part of their world without hesitation.
The Aftermath: A Flattened Fort and One Flat Dad
Eventually, the fortress began to crumble under the weight of fun. Pillows scattered. The blanket roof slid to the floor. Wyatt declared the mountain had “erupted.” Sebastian lay on the carpet, dramatically “buried by snow.”
And Anderson? He just lay still, face in a pillow, whispering, “The mountain… is retired.”
But even then, a soft smile crept across his face.
Mount Dad May Rise Again
As the boys ran off in search of cookies, Anderson slowly sat up. Muscles aching. Spine gently protesting. But heart full.
He glanced at the mess and shook his head.
One day, the mountain won’t be needed. One day, the games will change. But for now, in this tiny window of childhood, he is the mountain. And he wouldn’t trade that role for the world.
