Growing Up

I don't wanna. I want to be free and childlike forever. But the gray hairs are starting to show up. Five of them. Yup. The buggers. Every time I look in the mirror and they catch my eye that inner voice whispers to me. "You are getting older. You will not live forever. Your days are numbered."

Sure, at almost 28 I'm probably a ways from my deathbed but those gray hairs are reminding me that while the deathbed may be a while a away, my childhood is a bit behind me as well. My days of lounging around reading Nancy Drew and licking sticky popsicles are long gone. I don't remember the last time I danced in the rain. I drink more coffee and less chocolate milk now. Perhaps most depressing of all is my lack of make believe as an adult. I used to play make believe every second of every day and now, to my utmost dismay, I spend every waking moment of my life in the real world. And let me tell you, the real world is not nearly as much fun.

I'm going to take this moment of realization to reconnect with a bit of my childhood. Sure, I should go do the dishes and sweep up under the lunch table and then pick up the living room and throw in a load of laundry. I will do all that. But not this minute. This minute I'm going to pour some chocolate milk and have a pretend "tea party" with my daughter. I might even change my name for the party to something ridiculously fancy like Priscilla Vanderwoodsen. I will stick up my pinky and elegantly sip my chocolate milk and I will use a British accent (don't all fancy people have British accents?) and I will revel in my world of make believe.

Yes, I am growing up. Fortunately I have five little people to tether me to the world of magic that I call childhood.