The predictions started streaming in on Saturday afternoon, that snow was on the way. Central Indiana should expect to get 2″-4″ of snow, along with some wind. In other words, White Death was approaching.
The snow began to fall at 10 AM Sunday, right on schedule. It snowed off and on until shortly after midnight. Total snowfall was about 5″ (gasp). The evening news (it didn’t matter which channel), started with the weather people telling us what we already knew: it was snowing. And then, right on cue, the phrase “reporting live from the salt barn at 21st and MLK” was uttered.
At 6:30 Sunday evening, we got the call – there would be a two hour delay for the schools. That was revised to a full cancellation at 6:40 Monday morning. This evening’s newscast included a photo that a viewer sent to the station of a ruler stuck into the “drift” in her driveway. It topped off at a whopping 10 1/2″.
All of this for 5″ of snowfall. Holy crap.
Now, I don’t want this to sound like the “when I was your age I walked uphill both ways to school in all weather” kind of thing, but seriously? 5″ of snow closes school? I remember growing up, almost never having a snow day. When we did have one, it was because the entire county was paralyzed under the stuff. We’re talking feet of snowfall, with drifts in the 2-3 foot range. If the buses would run, there was school.
So there was no school – and the the boy and I spent the day together. To break things up, we ventured out into the elements for a visit to the bank – and a stop at McDonald’s for a Transformer Happy Meal. The plan was to hit the drive through and eat at home. As we got home, of course the first order of business was to see which Transformer was in the meal. Here’s how the exchange went:
Boy: My Transformer isn’t in there.
Dad: Are you sure?
Boy: Uh huh.
Dad: Then what’s that in the plastic?
Boy: It’s not a Transformer.
Unfortunately, in true Joe Pesci/Leo Getz fashion, they %$&@ you in the drive through. Instead of a Transformer, the boy’s Happy Meal contained a Hello Kitty wristwatch. A crushing blow to a 5-year-old boy.
This, my friends, might as well have been the end of the world as we know it. The tears started, immediately followed by the request to go back and get a Transformer. That will teach me to leave the window without checking the meal the next time I brave the drive through. Looks like I’m visiting McDonald’s again tomorrow – I’m either swapping out a toy, or dining on that caloric goodness that is a Happy Meal.
The school just called – two hour delay already called for tomorrow. For what reason I’m not sure, but there’s a delay. I’m convinced we’re raising a generation of pansies.
(And yes, the title does invoke the sounds of R.E.M. in my head – apologies to anyone else who now has that song running in an endless mental loop.)