I am a grown woman, yet I have an unreasonable obsession with snow. I know where the “problem” began. I grew up in Virginia. It snows here … sometimes. It’s a major “close down school and flock to the grocery store” event when there is a chance of more than 3 inches of snow. The news media goes bonkers. They have “storm team coverage” at every turn. I have been inculcated. I buy into the hype.
When I was younger, it was all about school closing and then spending the day sledding with my friends. We made snow ice cream and we watched TV during the day. Now that I have kids, I see that nothing has changed. Cancelling school honestly doesn’t affect my day, but it affects theirs. I see how incredibly happy it makes them – sort of a psychological victory – so I fall back into the old habits and stalk the news and hope for school closings.
I no longer spend my snow days sledding, but I do still make an occasional bowl of snow ice cream. I find great joy when I see ten pairs of shoes at the front door – evidence that my kids like to have friends over to our house when it snows. I love the excited chatter. I am happy to wipe up the water puddles on the floor and to provide hot chocolate for all. In the end, they won’t remember what they might have learned on that one day in school – but the happy feeling of staying home and playing in the snow – that’s the memory worth keeping.