My kids typically choose the most inopportune times to have the most brain-bending conversations. Usually breakfast. I mean, it’s not uncommon for Josh to have questions about the process of being hanged, drawn, and quartered over a morning bowl of Cheerios. Sometimes we discuss the differences between macaroons and macarons (and my desire to eat exactly neither of them)—yes, Virginia, there *is* a difference as all Passover-celebrating Jews can attest to—while trying to fix the broken toaster that’s not so much broken as a little bit under the weather because a certain second grader melted her daddy’s compression shirt whilst trying to make a toaster waffle. Just this past week we had a full discussion about how eggs work and the differences between all the different types of eggs and how we can be sure that we won’t crack open an egg and find a baby chick inside…WHILE I AM FRYING EGGS IN THE MORNING.
My kids, man.
This morning, though. Those poor, sad not-snow day faces. They went to bed with visions of snow fights and snow angels in their heads. And they woke up to their wicked mother pulling the warm blankets off of their hibernate-y, snuggly bodies.
But *why* do we have to go to school today?
Because school is open. It’s not a snow day.
But THE SNOW.
Yes. There’s lots of snow. But you can walk to school. And the district school board has announced on CP24 that it’s open. School’s open, you are going.
But the buses aren’t running.
But you don’t take the bus. In fact, I can see your school from our front porch.
But it’s going to be cold and wet.
You spent hours out on your backyard ice rink getting both cold and wet. AND you have boots, hats, mitts, snowpants, and coats.
But think of the teachers and their snowy, dangerous commutes!
But think of your mother, who basically hasn’t worked a Friday since 2012 on account of all of your strike days and PA days.
But Harry won’t be there. He gets a snow day.
Harry’s mother loves him more, obviously.
Does she ever.
Go to school. Make good choices. Smile more. At the very least, after school you can ask Harry if his mom is looking to adopt.
I just might.
This is the face of a suffering child. Clearly.
I wish you could see my face right now…
Looks an awful lot like this.