I don't want to grow up

I wish I was a little kid again. Back when things were simple and the world seemed completely new. Before I made to-do lists. When I would dance silly with my grandmum to old country music. Eating whatever I thought I could get away with, like cake for breakfast, not because I was able to but to see how far I could push it into "special" day territory. Back when I could read a book and really, truly love it and get that excited shivery feeling when the plot turned out just how I knew it should. When boys were still interesting in the way bugs were, not for romantic purposes but purely curiosity. When mistakes didn't ruin your life, just your favorite light-up sneakers. Being excited about Christmas because Santa still existed. Same for Easter. When my birthday was my favorite day of the year because it was entirely about me. Back when I could get away with being brutally honest and no one really got mad because I was supposed to be too young to know better, though I usually did know better. The clothes I wore didn't have to match or even make some sort of sense for people to still talk to me in public. Green polka-dotted shirt with pink ruffly shorts went with red ropers and a princess tiara. My favorite restaurant was still my dad's place. I could count on at least one of our dachshunds to keep me company in time-out at the end of the hall. If I fell asleep during time-out I didn't hold a grudge or probably even notice. Homework was easy and done with Mum or Daddy's help while they cooked dinner. Wearing my ballet class tutu around the house all day was accepted as perfectly normal. Playing in the rain and snow all the time. Playing the adding game Daddy programmed just for me on the old Apple, complete with "duhdidduh-didduh-didduh" and "dinkboing" sounds for right or wrong answers. (I miss affirmation like that in my schoolwork these days.)
Yeah. Being grown up is just SO great. Happy Thursday!