Once upon a time, a big snowstorm, and the resulting snow day, represented the pinnacle of youthful joy. You’d wait for the morning news to scroll past your school district, render its verdict and punch your ticket to freedom. But, now that you’ve got kids of your own, it’s a whole different story.
It’s not just the names of the storms that fill you with dread - hello, Kato, Gorgon, Hektor, and Marcus. (By the way, what ever happened to “regular” storm names like the Blizzard of ‘78 or the April Fool’s Day Blizzard.) No, it’s the fear of navigating snow- and slush-covered streets with a flimsy stroller. Walking four blocks in these conditions is more grueling than the Iditarod.
That frozen majesty after the snowfall… it lasts about 30 minutes in the city. Like anywhere else, we generate our fair share of yellow snow (please, don’t eat it, kids). But, it’s those mountains of brown slush that are truly unique to city living. The perils are many. Some puddles are moat-like, spanning entire crosswalks, basically daring you to attempt a crossing. Others are like a minefield, when just one ill-advised step on seemingly ground can end up taking out your whole lower leg. The calisthenics and hop-scotching that are required to avoid the routine dunking actually dramatically increase your risk for a more catastrophic wipeout. Add an infant to the mix and you can forget about trying to go anywhere.
However, unless you plan to hunker down until May, the slush puddles must be traversed. So, leave your loafers at home and put on a pair of waders. And, help those parents in-need when you see them struggling on the street. It's good Karma for your next trans-avenue crossing.