I have a job with benefits like dental and retirement and disability. I have paid off my car and my student loans (yippee!). I’ve budgeted so I can monthly give money to charities that I like. I feed, clothe, house, and entertain myself, and do my darned best to try to keep the dishes clean.
All this to say that I’ve figured out how to be a reponsible adult.
Some other things I do:
- Go barefoot whenever an option – including behind my desk in my office. (I used to attend my old church without shoes so often I was called the barefoot girl.)
- Play in the creek.
- Color. With crayons.
- Eat PB&Js.
- Wear pigtails.
- Make goofy faces at the camera.
- Wear a costume whenever I have an excuse.
- Have ice cream and nachos for dinner.
- Drive an hour to Estes Park just to buy candy. (Taffy Shop, yay!)
- Dance when there’s no music, sometimes at the copy machine.
- “Perch” on furniture – mostly couch armrests.
- Sit on my feet in a chair.
- Sit on the floor instead of in a chair.
- Climb anything climbable like statues and old trains and big rocks.
- Catch bugs and toads.
- Do cartwheels.
- Play on swings.
- Read Beverly Cleary books.
- Decorate with Christmas lights.
- Play Spoons. And Ultimate Spoons, when I have brave enough friends.
- Chase pigeons.
- Sing “Deep and Wide”, “Down in my Heart”, “I’m in the Lord’s Army”, and “I am a C”. (I am so sad that my Sunday schoolers don’t know these classics – even if singing Audio Adrenaline’s “Big House” on Sundays is super duper fun.)
Somewhere along the line people stop thinking of you as immature for doing these things and start thinking of you as young-at-heart. I think that line may be the magical age of thirty. And that’s pretty fantastic.