I love everything about southern snow days: the sudden halt of all normal activity, the feigned state of emergency, and the camaraderie of all the neighborhood kids in finding some place to sled and something to sled with. The big kids play with the little kids, and dads are all home from work. It is a surprise family vacation that came without planning or prep and is a beautiful break from the business of life.
I think the most enchanting part of snow in the south is the unspoken contract that everyone seems to dutifully uphold. Everyone will treat the prediction of snow as a very serious emergency. We will act as if the very thought of sending children to school in such conditions is ludicrous. No one will attempt to make it to work because life is simply too precious to put our lives in such peril. Then, when our collective front of deep concern and fear has successfully delivered the expected cancellations and closings, we let out a loud "whoo hoo", layer up the kids in every pair of pants they own, and fly out our doors to go play in the snow.
The contract is never mentioned, but there are some invisible "high-fives" going around as we gather with our neighbors at the top of our favorite sledding hills. Kids and parents alike spend the day building snow men, making snow cream, and throwing snow balls. In a day or two, the sun comes out and life returns to normal. But we never forget the treacherous winter weather that we all just barely made it through, and we silently vow to do our duty next time disaster should strike.