Okay, we’re here at Cecil Adams Elementary. Our principal, aka Ed Zotti is in charge, and our teachers watch out for us little hellions.
But now it’s recess! I wanna hang upside from the monkey bars! See, I’m showing off my Princess Leia Underoos!
C’mon, everybody!
I’m gonna be going for the hula hoop record. Stand back people!
Ewwwwww, Guin’s got cooties!
Mmmmm… Mud pie.
Who wants to sit with me on the teeter-totter?
I’m gonna swing so high that I will go over the bar!
Let’s see who can jump from the highest swing! 1-2-3 GO!
I’ll be the one stuck in the middle of the slide and using my hands to propel myself to the bottom. 
Kickball!! Kickball! KICKBALL!
Or perhaps we can go right to the fun stuff–chase the person who has the ball and get it away from them! (aka schoolyard rugby).
I’ll be the creepy kid who reduces the rest of the kids in my tent to tears with sinister stories when we go away on trips, thanks.
During normal school days, you’ll find me staring at the wall muttering stuff.
Booger. Booger!
Please enlighten this ignorant Australian. What exactly are cooties? Head lice or something? Pimples? “Boy germs”?
Been a wonderin’ thing for Kiwis, too. According to this attempt at understanding:
Oh, yeah – and I’m the fat kid who just sits in th’ corner of the playground, away from the hair-yankers, trying not to get her glasses broken again.
You guys don’t act like a five year old all the time?
When we’re bigger, we might. 
::sits in corner, reading a good book::
Perches in a tree, contentedly munching on a bag of cookies gacked from the fat kid in the corner
Hopscotch! Hopscotch! I go first!
::Hears the word “hopscotch”. Looks around. Puts book down:: Hey, FCM, can I play too?
:: swings, and swings, and swings and swings and swings swings swingsswingsswings… :: Wee, space! Oh, shit. Not space. :: splat ::
hiding under the biggest, shadiest tree, with a huge hat, excessive sunblock and a bad temper Why do they make me come out here to get melanoma? I want to go back to the library!