At 5:30 this morning I received a call. Actually, at 5:30 I received a call on my home phone, then at 5:33 I received a call on my cell phone, and at 5:35 my husband received a call on his cell phone. Or something like that. Whatever the case there was a lot of ringing and a lot of rummaging around in the dark for phones. At least one of our (black) cats got a good kick in the dark as we fumbled around. Black cats are best to remain immobile and out of high traffic areas in the dark. Ours haven’t figured this out yet.

But I digress.

The sum total of all this telecommunicating is that our daughters’ school opened two hours late this morning due to the snowfall we received last night. Once this information was relayed, we lay there in the dark until finally Jim got up to shovel (God bless him) and I went back to sleep, alarm off.

What seemed like ten minutes later, I had two kids trolling around the house looking for breakfast, completely lost as to why I was still in bed. Normally I wake them up for school and typically this is a difficult process. But not today.

“School is delayed because of the snow,” I groaned, rolling over.

“Oh. Can we have breakfast?” they replied.

My kids never let me sleep in.

As I got up and started making breakfast and the whole of the morning’s events sank in, I remembered how it used to be when I was a kid and in some strange way, I felt bad for mine. They barely registered what had happened. There was no suspense, no process to the whole thing. I remember being completely obsessed with the possibility of a snow day, waking at dawn to catch a glance out the window, praying to see white. And, if I did, the games began. The TV and the radio went on and you’d try to monitor both, waiting for the announcement. Oh please, oh please, oh please Mr. Radio Guy, say my school’s name! I went to a smallish private school and they only annouced those every 20 minutes or so and if you missed it you were screwed. The TV (in later years, not the early days) had one of those ticker things across the bottom to announce closings. So you were listening to the radio, watching the ticker and trying desperately to infer from the incessantly announced decisions of the large school systems what your little school would do. Baltimore County is two hours late, we have to be at least that! But you can’t know, not for sure, so you’d wait and wait and wait some more, all the while your mother is telling you that you’d better start to get ready just in case but you don’t want to because you know–you know!–that you’re going to be closed. Or at least two hours late. There will be some payback for all this waiting because there is snow out there–DON’T YOU SEE?

So somehow the whole 5:30am broadcast announcement lacks something for me. Where is the ceremony? Where is the cosmic hard work? I mean, if Mr. Radio Guy can’t teach kids to pray really hard, who can?