Making a Snow Decision

So, it’s been snowing here. That means curling up in front of the fireplace, drinking hot cocoa out of mismatched mugs, and coloring pictures of Elsa and Anna all day, right? Nope. It means white-hot raging Facebook debates about whether or not the kids should be going to school tomorrow. It would make an excellent drinking game, really. Just take a shot every time someone says ‘snow’ or ‘school closing.’ You’ll be drunk before you know it. This fluffy stuff on the ground also triggers several bread buying debates on social media, and you can see my opinion on that here.

There are two schools of thoughts in this debate:

#1 – There is not that much darn snow on the ground. The roads are a little wet and there’s a dusting of snow in the grass. Get over it. The kids should be in school, and we shouldn’t waste snow days on this.

I have to agree with this. It’s really not that bad out. And since I work from home, I need the kids to go to school so I can get my work done. Otherwise I’ll be curled up in front of the fireplace, drinking hot cocoa out of mismatched mugs, and coloring pictures of Elsa and Anna all day.

#2 – The wet roads will freeze overnight. The curvy country roads aren’t safe. We should be more concerned about the safety of our children than anything else. The people who want to send their children to school just want a free break from their children.

I have to agree with this stance as well. I do put the safety of my children above all else, and I would much rather they be home safe than stuck on a bus somewhere. It’s funny, though, because I lived in Colorado for the first twelve years of my life. We had to go to school when it snowed or else we would never have any school at all. When we moved to Illinois, we laughed at the school cancellations that blared across the news the moment a flake hit the ground. In Colorado, we almost always went to school, and it was fine.

Except that time when it wasn’t. The snow had been falling heavily and the high winds were drifting it across the road. None of this was unusual, but the bus was having trouble plowing through it all that day. As we approached the house of a kid whose name I can’t remember, he said, “We’re going to get stuck at my house.” His place was nestled between two hills, and the wind had filled that little valley with enough snow to build an army of yetis. His prediction had been correct. The entire busload of kids piled off into his house. I remember the long line of kids waiting to use the phone to call their parents and let them know where we were. The weather was so bad that the majority of us had to spend the night, and extra food was brought in on horseback. The news team made it to the house shortly before my dad was able to pick us and the neighbor girl up in a borrowed truck, and we were on TV that night throwing snow balls at each other.

So what’s the point? Well, we were okay, so it all ended up fine. But my mother was terrified. I was a bit miserable sleeping on a stranger’s living room floor. I remember it well enough that I can even describe the shirt I was wearing that day (red, with a black horse’s head, and its mane was made of Christmas lights. Hey, it was the 90’s.) It’s a nice conversation starter, but maybe it is better to be safe than sorry. For the moment, it looks like I’ll be loading the kids up on the big yellow bus in the morning. But I just might have some cocoa for them.