Print edition: 
The working mother part of me tends to gripe about a 5:30 a.m. wake-up call saying school has been canceled. Canceled? For snow? This snow, which looks deep and powdery enough from the window but obviously melts into harmless wet slush with every footstep or tire track?
Seriously?
The kids miss so much school already, with holidays, teacher work days, early-release days and random breaks. You know those studies that show people in Finland get more vacation than anyone in the world? My kids' school calendar makes Finland look like Alcatraz. My 9-year-old had one full school day scheduled this week, and it was called off for slush.
So yeah, I guess part of me agrees with a friend of mine who texted Monday morning to say, "Hannah got her snow day! Punks."
We are, of course, jealous. (I can't speak for my friend, I guess, but I assume that text was pounded out sometime between pulling on her boots and arriving at her office, where work continued despite the siren call of snowmen and sledding hills.)
Then I heard singing, laughing, that glorious sound of life interrupted. Shortly after sunrise, my children were running laps through the house, kitchen to living room and back again, heads thrown back like Snoopy on the frozen pond —"Hee-hee-hee-heeeee! Ha-ha-ha-haaaa!!!" —bliss personified.
"Snow day!" sang Jack, my 9-year-old. "Yeah, baby!"
"Right," I grumbled, pouring the cereal. "Because you guys are so overworked. I don't know how you stand those grueling schedules."
Sarcasm is one of my uglier parenting tools. But it comes so naturally, I've just stopped fighting it.
"Snow day!" Hannah joined the chorus, undaunted, and reviewed the day's agenda: Slide ski bibs and boots directly over pajamas, build snowman, make snow angels, throw snowballs, come inside, warm up, drink hot chocolate, watch television, repeat.
On a previous snow day, the neighbor girls had hitched a toboggan to their Weimaraner and raced along the sidewalks laughing, screaming, slightly crazed, like Currier and Ives meets Tim Burton. Great fun, in other words, so the kids thought they might try that today, too, with our golden retriever. Or their father.
They needed a carrot for their snowman and vanilla for snow cream. Did we have those in the pantry already, or could I stop by the store on my way to work?
So many dreams for this precious nugget of unplanned time. Snowflakes and daylight fade fast this time of year, and my kids' childhoods, I realized, are just as brief.
The occasional snow day can sure wreck a schedule — mine less than many others', thanks to flexible schedules and a work-from-home spouse. Even so, I figured, maybe seven more hours in a fluorescent-lit classroom isn't always the best thing for kids.
But do me a favor and don't ever let them know I said that. I have a sarcastic, crotchety reputation to uphold, and they're out there right now having fun without me.
Punks.
