Coppell Observer is a humorous column about life as a teenager. Please be warned that any and all sass is due to the writers’ similar situation as adolescents (even though we feel so much older). You, the reader, should not take any of these words to heart. Seriously. If this article makes you laugh, leave a comment.

I was awoken at 11 a.m. on a Sunday morning to the screams of my youngest sister. 

“It’s snowing!” 

I rose from my bed. My mind was on one thought alone as I sprinted to the windows facing the backyard: could it be true? 

Countless reports of the possibility of snow had never yielded results. I didn’t think I could possibly take another crushing disappointment. I skidded to my sister’s side and stared out the window. 

Lo and behold: snow. 

It was as though we were a small rural village experiencing rain after months of drought; we were that jazzed up. “Snownuts,” powdered sugar donuts, were passed around with talks of cocoa later in the day. I took another look outside the window at my 2021 Winter Wonderland. 

Ah, the sweet sight of a whopping 10 flakes big enough to distinguish from raindrops falling to a wet, very-not-snow-like, somehow-very-rain-like puddle on the concrete. 

Maybe if one of them managed to stick to the concrete, we might just have a snow day. It was Sunday of course, but if a single snowflake that beat all the odds and stayed frozen on the ground were to survive until Monday? Well, who knows what might happen! 

The school might be closed down for the day because look, it’s Texas, our tires are so “frigophobic” that they put Europeans’ fear of 70 degree weather to shame. People wouldn’t want to go out in this weather, right? With the blizzard outside, injuries could happen! The elderly could slip! Children could get the sniffles! Someone’s hair could be ruined!

Who cares if I don’t go out to school anyway because of COVID-19? What does it matter that a snow day in this day and age could easily just be a virtual school day for everyone? It’s the principle of it all that matters. 

My thoughts turned to more immediate pleasures: what to do with the snow we had right now. My sisters and I had already accomplished the obligatory “stare, ooh and ah.” Where to go from here?

There was the option of sledding. With all of the slickness of the melted snow, we could get some great momentum on a slope. Of course, we didn’t have a sled because we lived in Texas. A sled is useful as an ice cube in a volcano, and we didn’t have any slopes because we were in a suburb with the closest thing to an incline being the big ditch by a drain. 

I briefly considered attempting to sled down our old wooden picnic table in the backyard in a laundry basket, then decided against it because I doubted my long legs would fit in the laundry basket (since that was the only thing wrong with that plan). 

Another option – snowball fight. If there wasn’t enough snow to make softball-sized snowballs, we could make do with snow golf balls. If there wasn’t enough snow to make snow golf balls, perhaps we could have a snow spitball contest. 

Well, it turned out that we didn’t have any straws in the house, so our snow spitball plan didn’t happen either (since that was the only thing wrong with that plan). 

There was the last option of building a snowman. At the beginning of 2020, when all seemed to be relatively right in the world, my sisters and I had built a little foot-tall snowman. We considered a little inch-tall snowman or possibly some form of snow-insect. With a brief analysis of how much snow we had to work with, it was decided that the only thing we could make was a snow microorganism. 

However, as none of us were STEM kids and had no desire to dive into the world of biology to figure out the size and shape of a microorganism, we called it quits (since that was, again, the only thing wrong with that plan). 

So, by process of elimination, we did the only thing we could do with the limited amount of snow we were blessed with that day: nothing. 

Wait, what had I been so excited about again? 

Follow Sally (@SParampottil) and @CHSCampusNews on Twitter.