It’s not supposed to snow in the south. It’s supposed to be warm and sunny. Your neighbors are supposed to say, “Bless her heart” when they’re getting in their pickup “fixin” to do the grocery shopping, filling their buggies with pecan pies and Coca Cola.
Your daughter who was born in New Hampshire should not have to run outside at 9:00 at night to dance in snowflurries, saying she’s never seen SO MUCH snow.
Your new baby/car should not have to drive through it reminding you of every year in your youth where your car with snowtires but not chains always ended up in a snowbank, or off the road and once, skewered on a Pennysaver mailbox.
Your son should not have to make an iceball with dirt and dog doo rolled inside that is certain to melt all over the patio by noon.
And mostly, they should have called off school so we could have stayed in drinking hot chocolate and watching Blu-Ray movies all morning instead of poking at website designs and researching the cell phone choice made under duress (snow coming!) yesterday and now have to go back out in the ice and exchange for the Blackberry you knew you should have bought in the first place.