"Do You Have To Go?"

Clinging to the belief that fresh air, even sub-zero fresh air, was vital to childhood development, our parents regularly stuffed us into layers and layers of socks, pants and sweaters, topped with massive snowsuits, scarves, mittens and hats, in order to be sent outside to suck in some of that life-sustaining, lung-paralyzing fresh air.

You could bet your last dollar that as the final layers were tied, zipped and snapped into place, that was the exact moment that our bladders demanded immediate attention. Every. Single. Time. This, despite the fact that Every. Single. Time., the ritual began with, "Do you have to go potty?" and our indignant, insistent response, "No!" So Phase Two of Playing Outside was getting completely undressed (all 27 layers), peeing, and getting dressed again. It was like a swimmer's false start. Then we were once again sent outside "to play."

Play? Play?? In our gigantic, pre-Gortex snowsuits, we couldn't bend at the knees or elbows (as is obvious in these pictures) so "play" was usually limited to throwing a few snowballs. Just a few minutes later, our little windburned faces covered with frozen snot, we were begging to be let back inside. Winter fun. Good times.