Act your age.
This being a grown-up thing should have an NC-17 rating. Adults only. There are bills to pay, appointments to keep, and things to do. Go to the gym. Eat right. Get enough sleep. Wake up. Start over. Excited misery is what one psychologist friend of mine called it. You know, when you spend all your energy and time doing things you either have to do or feel you’re supposed to do.
That’s it? That’s being an adult?
There’s one more thing.
If we’re fortunate, our lives will be filled with about fifty years as a working adult facing Mondays. Fifty years as a grown up. And somewhere between being a kid and being old, life happens.
So many people greet Monday with an “ugh” because for some reason the weekend has become the only time grown ups play. For some, those two days are the only time of the week when we maybe, just maybe, we act like kids. Sort of. Think about that. Stand on the outside of your life and take a good hard look.
Like what you see? Maybe you should act like a kid a little more. (Not the “mine, mine, mine” kind of kid.)
Now, before anybody gets to cranked up about and suggests I’m advocating irresponsibility, hang on. I’m not. I just don’t wanna grow up. I’m a Toys-R-Us kid. I’m not letting go of the really fun stuff of childhood.
Playing in the rain.
Catching fire-flies. (We call’em lightening bugs here in the South.)
Dancing in front of the mirror.
Wading in a creek.
Laughing at dumb jokes—you know, the ones that include references to—um, never mind.
Maybe even burp the alphabet.
Sure. I have appointments to keep–grown up appointments, like annual vision examinations, and dare I say—uh, no. I daren’t. I try to eat right. I do the grown up stuff. Some of it I do well. Some of it—well, not so much. But in a world of doing, I hope I’m taking time to be–especially to be a kid. Not just on the weekends, but on Mondays and every other day of the week. Maybe, you should too.
I have to go now.
I have some calls to Walgreens to see if they have Prince Albert in a can.