I Kid You Not

Remember those good old days of just being a kid? When your biggest worries were what to take for Show-and-Tell, the cool way to tie your Sebagos, and what in the heck it was your Speak and Spell was trying to say in that strange electronic voice? Were those even words? Yes, times were simpler then, even though we didn't realize it. Do you ever think about the ironies of the way it used to be, and my, how things have changed?

Then: Before anyone even asked your age, you were happy to not only volunteer it, but bump it up to the next highest number. "I'm nine and three quarters and I will be ten in May!"

Now: My standard answer to how old are you is "not old at all." Enough said. In addition, depending on who is doing the asking, I may or may not fib in the age check box on a form. It's another way to help slow down the aging process.

Then: You couldn't wait to find out what the toy was in your Happy Meal. A plastic doll, a toy car with a wheel that fell off before you made it home, some kind of gadget you had no idea what to do with...better than the food, even!

Now: You realize that the Happy Meal toy, whatever it might be, is something that will be left in the floor and found by your bare foot in the dark, causing you to lose your mind/patience/religion and possibly pinky toe. However, the thought of a cheeseburger and fries has the possibility of making it all better.

Then: You loved playing princess and getting all dressed up in makeup, tons of jewelry, frilly dresses and toddling around in playtime high heel shoes. The dress code was tea party perfection and you couldn't wait to wear real earrings and lipstick. Ooh-la-la.

Now: I don't know about you, but I own every blister preventer, shoe insert, cushion--basically every Dr. Scholl's product that promises any kind of comfort ever created, and the best part of wearing heels is still that moment when you take those suckers off. Ahhh.

Then: Remember how your Mom would ration out the Halloween candy, to keep you out of sugar shock oblivion and only let you have a little at a time?

Now: Why, in the name of St. Hershey, patron saint of all things delicious, doesn't someone ration my candy? Or at least stop me when I've eaten 413 pieces? I feel the need to be sent to bed without dinner.




Then: A truly special occasion meal was rectangular pizza in the school cafeteria. Yessss!

Now: A truly special occasion meal, at least at my house, is one where you get to use a coupon. Three dollars off is the new brick of pizza with ranch dressing (you ate it, you loved it, and it's gross).


Then: Bedtime was dread time. You perfected your begging approach and learned the true art of negotiation: please can I stay up just a little bit later? Please? Five more minutes!?

Now: You find yourself dozing off on the couch in the middle of Duck Dynasty and wishing you could stay awake just long enough to at least clear some of the shows out of your ever-filling DVR. In reality, going to bed after dinner and getting a solid 11 hours of sleep would be the best gift ever. Please can I be sent to bed now? Puh-lease?

Ah, those were the days. Most of us would be better off if we could still be put in timeout when we need it, have someone remind us to say our prayers at bedtime, and keep a watchful eye on our manners (elbows off the table, thankyouverymuch).

For the record, I still love Skeeball, a snow day, roller coasters, Lucky Charms, and the occasional temper tantrum. Some things will never change--no kidding.