Mary, Queen of Peepee-sas

The envy! The rage! While adults (kinda) like me toil away at our 9-to-5’s (9-to-7:30’s) Manhattan kids are running wild! Do you remember the joy of The Snow Day? Eating Eggo waffles with Aunt Jemima syrup, watching Ricki Lake in your parents’ bed, sledding with the neighborhood posse in the park across the street?

This brings me to a very important question: Did anyone else think it was cool to pee in your snowsuit? As a child, the principle of “swimsuit, snowsuit, what’s the difference?” was carved into my understanding of the world. In recent years, I’ve started to think maybe I was a little off. This begs another question: didn’t my mother ever notice that my snowsuit was covered in pee all the time? We kept in the coat closet with all the other coats. I have four other family members; no one minded that our hall closet reeked of urine?

Sometimes I brag about the summer after sixth grade, when I survived on only Kix cereal. I think I found a new anecdote to sum up the feral playground that was my adolescence.