I might have been gone for three minutes.
The girls broke the whole styrofoam block down into individual white pellets and explained to me that they were playing with inside snow. 'Inside snow' was on the ceiling. It was in their hair, on the jackets I rued not hanging up properly, in the seat of the parked stroller.
It was in their mouths, as they showed me with drooly, open pleas for assistance.
It was completely stuck to their clothes, so much so that I made them strip naked in the foyer before we ran upstairs, and then it was on their bellies, their backs, between their toes. L climbed up first, then E, then me with the lamp in hand. When E hit the top and I was three stairs or so behind, she cracked her full moon wide open with ten fully splayed fingers (mere inches from my face) and screamed Mama! I think there's inside snow inside my tushie!
And yes, there was.