Kids. They’ve got it easy.
When I close my eyes, I remember what those days were like.
My worst fear was whether I’d get to watch a full episode of Barney or Wishbone.
If I sat really quiet in the backseat of my friend’s mom’s car, would her mom forget I was there and accidentally bring me back to her house on a school night?!
Scraping up my knees rollerblading was my only set back to my daily activities.
Would I have to answer a tough science question, even if I didn’t raise my hand? Entertainment equated pulling out fake microphones and guitars and putting on a rock concert with my friends for our parents.
Oh no, my favorite shirt was lost in a pile of laundry leaving me with five million other options, but how could I possibly risk wearing the same shirt I wore last week…or the week before…or the week before that?!
Did I get a bigger bowl of ice cream than my sister?
Maybe the braces-faced-bleached-hair-Abercrombie-clad boy would say hi to me?
The days when I wouldn’t have enough time on a Saturday to shop at the mall, eat out with friends, go to a movie, browse through Target, rent a DVD (I’m not that old, we had DVD’s in high school) and spend the night at someone’s house meant the world must be coming to an end.
Even college days of worrying whether I’d finish a project, paper, or pass a test no longer seem as traumatic and dramatic.
I take back how much I complained about what a hard-knock-life I was living in those blissful days of childhood.
What’s that you say?
No take backs?
You mean I’m stuck as an adult for the rest of my life?
Decisions have ceased revolving around whether or not to watch Mary Poppins or The Sound of Music.
Now I’m wondering whether or not to become Mary Poppins or join a convent. Problems are no longer solved with band aids.
Rock, Paper, Scissors is not an option for deciding future education, careers, and other “If-I-make-a-mistake-my-life-is-doomed” life paths.
Adults. We’ve got it rough.