A walk down (a snow-covered) memory lane

I’m at work while the snow gently falls past the window (not MY window because my office has nothing but a poster of a window, but I’ve ventured out of my dark little space to peer out other people’s windows). Seeing the snow and having spent part of the morning at a local elementary school, I’ve been reminded about how fun “snow days” were growing up.
The kids at the school I visited were off the wall when the snow began falling. Combine that with the announcement that school was going to be dismissed early and I’m not sure any work got done for the last two hours of the school day. I’ve actually had nightmares about being a teacher, so I think an early dismissal would have sent me over the edge.
Anyway, the cardinal rule of snow days is… hot chocolate. I don’t think you’re allowed to stay home from school unless you promise to indulge in a mug of it (and the more marshmallows, the better!) We had a pond in our yard growing up, which is naturally where the neighborhood kids would congregate for skating, ice hockey games and all sorts of craziness. The two things we could count on were the fire my dad always started in a barrel to give us a place to warm up and the lobster pot of hot cocoa my mom always provided.
Another rule is, you have to spend time outside. It’s not fair to only sprawl out in front of the television or even curl up with a good book. You don’t have to shovel or clear off your car or do anything considered “work,” but you have to find a way to enjoy the snow. Build a fort, make a snow angel, lob a snowball at a neighbor, push your friend’s face into the snow, suck in as much fresh air as you can.
Which brings me to the last steadfast rule of snow days: relax. After exhausting yourself playing outside, take a bath, warm up in front of the stove or heater, make the above-mentioned hot chocolate, find that book you’ve been meaning to read, pull out a favorite old movie, take a nap and enjoy the fact that you didn’t have to go to work… um, I mean, school… that day.
It’s not a phrase you hear much since we’ve gotten to the point where we worry more about the evening commute in slippery conditions than stockpiling snowballs for a neighborhood war, but I’m going to say it anyway. “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!”