I’ll be the first to admit it: I can be very child-like. Throwing snowballs, making sand castles, jumping in water puddles, and refusing to let a double dog dare shame me are fairly common occurrences. Which leads for an interesting situation when I actually let my imagination run wild.
I didn’t realize that it wasn’t common to say that boys have cooties until, just recently, I talked about a friend have boy cooties and my roommate just about died of laughter. I may be lying about how close to death she was. But after all of this, I realized how frequently I say things that anyone past the age of, oh I don’t know, SIX would say.
Don’t believe me? A guy friend keeps insisting we need a cuddle session. I told him that I’d be okay with it but he should be worried about the scary monsters under my bed. Of course he said, “Oh I’m not afraid of any monsters that could be living under your bed. I’m tough.” I, being all realistic and stuff, was concerned for his health because some of the monsters have big sharp teeth and long claws. He didn’t seem to be concerned, and thought instead I might be coming up with reasons to not cuddle with him. (He was only approximately 12% right.) Here’s the thing: if you don’t feed the scary monsters under the bed socks or little toys or stuffed animals or something, they start to get hungry. When they get hungry, that’s when they start creeping out from under the bed and scare you until you feed them. I haven’t exactly been feeding them because a poor med student values her socks. And being a college girl, I don’t exactly have spare toys or stuffed animals to just feed to ruthless monsters. If I were my guy friend, I would be terrified. Probably both of the monsters and of me.
Also, I don’t know what exactly it is about mud that is so compelling, but it gets me every time. It just sits over in this oozy, thick mess calling with its middle aged man’s voice reserved for the best commercials, “Kristin… Kristin! I’m just as fun, slimy, and wonderful as you remember me to be. Come play! Oh, those new shoes? Pshhh. You bought those on sale.” Next thing you know, I’m covered in mud and I have no recollection where the past hour went.
Don’t even get me started on double dog dares.
Probably the best part is when I do something I know I shouldn’t, like sneaking someone’s snack, and I act like I have no idea in the whole wide world why they would be mad at me. It’s a natural reaction; I really don’t try to act innocent.
“I don’t know where that pile of crackers just went! Are you sure you had some left?”
“Oh. Hmmmm. Maybe the dog ate them?”
“Oh. We are at school and there isn’t a dog… riiight. I bet that guy over there came and ate them.”
“You don’t think so? Okay. Hmmmm. Maybe there are ghosts here?!”
“What? My breath smells like crackers?? Weird. I haven’t even eaten any crackers today!!”
I, of course, still use words I used when I was only learning English. I started talking pretty early, so my parents still make fun of my vocabulary but actually know what I’m talking about.
“Look at all the flutterbies!” Apparently I still can’t say butterflies.
Or, “Buuuuut fwit wips are the besssssst.” Fruit loops used to be my favorite thing in the world. That’s a lie, Mickey Mouse and my Grandma Carol blanet were.
“Love ya in the mornin’!” I have no idea what I meant by this, and neither did my parents, but it apparently stuck.
“You breakah myyyyy hearrrrrrt.” My mom insists I got this like from the old school country song “Achy Breaky Heart.” No matter where I came up with it, I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking it would be to hear that from your bawling two-year-old mid tantrum.
Just recently, a couple friends and I took a mini-vacation to Chicago, staying with one of their friends. I managed to leave my keys at his apartment, so he told me he’d ship them to me. Awww shucks, he’s so sweet. Anyways, skip forward a few days and I get a medium sized box in the mail. All confused, I open the box to find, in addition to my keys, one stiletto I had no idea I was missing. My first thought? “I feel like Cinderella!” … Completely normal, huh?
After just scratching the surface of examples to give you, I think I better stop. People might be genuinely concerned for my mental status. And only the lord know how much fun I could have in one of those white padded rooms.