Top Three Reasons Why We Should've Stayed Children
So I’ve been an adult for longer than I care to think about. However, I feel like childhood is so short. I remember my friend Tomeka and I at nine years old talking about turning “double digits” and using the term “pre-teen” way too often. We couldn’t wait to hit milestones and become grown-ups. If I’d only known what privileges came with childhood…Being an adult is rough. With that hard truth in mind and keeping with the list theme, here is my list of Top Three Reasons Why Being a Kid is Better than Being an Adult:
Getting Sick Is Acceptable. Seeing a child or baby throw up and cry is pretty high on the “Awww, poor thing!” or (depending on your region) “bless your heart” list. Seeing a grown man or woman crying and puking is at the top of the “wow, what a mess” list. I remember freshman year of college after suffering from a bad case of Dominoes in an all girls bathroom. My friend rubbed my back as my body rejected pepperoni and extra cheese. A girl walked by and asked presumptuously “Oh, is she drunk?” A few more young women passed with the same assumption. As I’ve gotten older, any stomach ache is met with the question “Ooh, think you’re pregnant?” Basically being sick as a kid is ok, but being sick as an adult is an assumed consequence of your lifestyle choices.
Kids Are Allowed to Have Bad Days. Sometimes children throw tantrums, fail a spelling test, or get their pin moved to red. Then it’s over. It is always easily explained: they missed their nap, ate too much sugar, their parents are getting divorced. Now over in grown-up land, bad days stick with you. Your peers will not easily forget and forgive if you’ve spoken too harshly, typed a grammatically incorrect post, or missed a deadline. One could even be labeled (a slacker, dumb, a witch, etc.) based on a bad day. No one cares that you’re days behind on sleep, hyped up on Starbucks, or going through a messy break-up. As an adult, it is harder to recover from a bad day.
Trick-or-Treating. Enough said….What I wouldn’t give to impress my neighbors with last year’s costume in return for a handful of treats, to return home with an ungodly amount of candy that your mom would hide from you until you forgot it existed, and trade unnamed orange wrapped candy with your naïve younger brother for two rolls of Smarties! I’m rambling…
In conclusion, being an adult is hard. Yet I still count each year older as a blessing. I’m so thankful for the childhood I had--a childhood full of forgiveness for throwing up in the back seat of my parent’s car, learning from my bad days, and nights of cheating my little brother out of his hard-earned Halloween candy.
(Pictured Above: Me as Reeses Cup circa 1987. You’re Welcome)
