A dream for children; a nightmare for parents.
We could always tell, as we woke up, if there was a promise/threat of a snow day upon us. It was the quiet. The peace that falls with the snow.
But we lived in a little town where all the kids could walk to school. No buses. No public transportation. Just their feet or a parent willing to drive them to school. Not for nothing did we pay taxes on a fleet of snow blowers and salt trucks. The roads and sidewalks were almost always clear and usable by 7:00 am.
The grumbling and griping was expected but manageable as we stirred them from their warm beds. The entire world, according to them, was sleeping in, drinking warm cocoa, sledding, watching television and having snow fights. They were going to school.
Darn right they were!
So get a move on. Find those gloves, boots, hats and scarves. Slurp down your breakfast. Chop, chop, don’t be late. Good boys. Have a nice day. See you later. Ta!
And with that, I’d close the door, pour myself a second cup of coffee, gather up a cat or two and a good book. Walk up the stairs, climb back between the barely cooled sheets, inhale deeply, count to four, exhale slowly.
It was a snow day after all.
Snowy picture thanks to sheknows.com