Do adults ever really stop being kids when they grow up? The older I become, the more convinced I am that we all have kid selves in us that need to be released in order to get some exercise.
Grown up men are always collecting toys. Watch the expressions on men’s faces as they take the first ride on a new tractor. Or get a man a new smart phone and watch his engagement as he checks out its useful and not-quite-useful but fun features. Adult women collect toys as well. There’s always the newest beauty-making gizmo, shoes that were bought on a whim and other electronic entertainment.
On any visit to an amusement park, observe the roller coaster riders. Some of the most “terrifying” rides don’t allow true kids so the bigger ones definitely enjoy thrills and surprises. If the Disney engineers didn’t know about the kid-side of adults, why create rides that exclude small ones in order to create maximum terror?
Watch a senior citizen on a motorized scooter. While some of their facial contortions reflect fear, most of them look like three-year olds on their first tricycles. Zipliners and hang-glider participants have similar looks on their faces. It’s a combination of “School’s out for the summer” and “Oh my God, what am I doing here?”
Parents with small children become the kids they’re raising. Some of it is understandable. But I will always believe that teeter-totters, carousels and Candy Land represent parent fun in conjunction with interacting with children.
As for me, I am always surrounded by toys. When I’m at school, I’m on the playground or making crafts. At home, toys are to be found throughout the living space. Many of them reflect delicious, cherished places, events and people. Some of them share my innermost secrets. And some are just good to touch without thinking about all of the anxieties and frustrations of adulthood. Shalom.