The human life cycle is ironic. We start out in diapers; we end up in diapers. We eat soft foods as we cut our teeth; we eat soft foods as we lose our teeth. We need caregivers as newborns; we often need caregivers in our last days.
My theory is that during the years between youth and old age we don’t become “adults” at all; we are but metamorphic kids. I know that I am. Might as well have fun!
At age 52, I honk at cows as I drive by pastures. I stomp on ant mounds to watch the tiny soldiers scurry. I continue to giggle at creative bodily noises. My ears perk up to the sound of neighborhood ice cream trucks. Every Christmas Eve I’m so excited I can hardly sleep. And I eat all the marshmallows out of a box of Lucky Charms. How fun!
So don’t let the middle-aged coot costume I’m wearing fool you; I am a kid in disguise. Ask my wife. Tesa reminds me daily.
Alas, I am not alone. Look around.
Take, for instance, traffic – I speed up; the driver in the next lane speeds up. I change lanes in front of him; he changes lanes and roars around me. We both jockey for the same lane at the red light . . . the one containing the least vehicles. The light turns green and we both put pedal to metal.
I’m first! He thinks.
Huh-uh, I am!
(Two normal kids on Ordinary Avenue, bickering over who’s going to be first. Fun!)
The same routine commonly unfolds in supermarkets.
This lane is shorter, the husband says.
Yes, but those people have more items between them, so come over here, his wife instructs.
But that cashier looks slow.
All right, you stay in that line and I’ll wait in this one. If you get to check out first I’ll come over there and vice versa.
Meanwhile, a third cashier opens another lane and announces: I can help the next person in line.
Two people in back of the wife sprint over.
Can you believe the nerve of them? They were behind me! It wasn’t their turn.
You’re right; I should have rammed their buggies, the husband replies as they both stomp out to their car.
Then there’s the conversation heard at the workplace water cooler when there is the remotest chance of snowfall.
Do you think we’ll get to go home early if it starts coming down?
Maybe we’ll be closed tomorrow!
Oh, please snow . . . oh, please, oh, please! That will be fun!
(The next morning, several kids pout during coffee break because there were no closings.)
Other evidence:
• the relationship games we all play;
• overcrowded “adult” softball fields, soccer fields and basketball courts;
• the average amount of time we text;
• our eating habits;
• excuses;
• whining; and
• the manner in which most of us still eat Oreos (the cream filling first). Now that’s fun!
I never wanted to grow up anyway!
Sure, sometimes life is not fair. On those days, I tattle. If that doesn’t help I throw a tantrum. Sometimes works too. Doesn’t it?
Ah, rats! My boss is nagging that she’ll cut off my allowance if I don’t get back to work. See you at recess! (aka the weekend) We’ll have fun, fun, fun!
© 2013 Russ Riddle. All rights reserved.