It's a rare occurrence indeed, but when the snow actually does fall in Atlanta, there's nothing quite like it. Kids scamper around the neighborhood in their rain boots and fleece jackets, catching snow flakes on their tongues. Nobody owns snowsuits, except maybe avid skiers, and you'd be hard pressed to find a pair of long underwear south of the Mason-Dixon line. I have friends who don't even own an ice scraper. The only snow plows and ice trucks that exist are located at the airport. When there's even a mention of snow in the forecast, people hoard bread and milk like it's Y2K.
My daughter will be five years old on Saturday and she's only experienced snow four times in her life, including today, and two of those times were while visiting her grandparents in Kentucky and North Carolina. The snow absolutely blew baby Jonathan's mind today. Heck, the snow even blew MY mind and I moved here from Chicago. The best thing about snow in Atlanta is that nobody expects you to go out in it. Except, of course, your children.