It’s true. I don’t want to grow up.
I’ve watched Peter Pan too many times to know bout half of my life, I’ve wished and prayed to be young forever. I know what you’re thinking.. why would anyone want to be a kid forever? So many rules, too little respect, not enough opportunity. But you’re wrong. There’s practically no rules that can’t be bent. And who cares about respect when you don’t have to respect strangers anyways. And opportunity? THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER ( I honestly am not sure that’s how you say it and if so, how that even makes sense).
My husband has this idea in his head that every day you get older, you’re a step closer to dying. What an awful way to live. To constantly be reminded that this is the youngest you’ll ever be. I don’t want to grow old, I don’t even want to be as old as I am now.
I love my child, but I miss being a child myself.
I hold on to as much youth as I have knowing that one day, I’m going to choose a spa day over going to the park and playing on the swings. It scares me so much to know that one day, I won’t remember how to have genuine fun.
I hope I don’t lose who I am. I hope deep inside, I never grow up. I don’t want to be the sour puss mother in the super market telling her nine year old to “grow up” when they’re making airplane sounds. I hope one day, Tonio and I can play spies in public areas and color outside the lines in every color book we come by. I’m going to let him know that there will always be time for fun and games in my house. The backyard will always be open to kick a ball around. The couches will always be the base of every tent we make with sheets from our freshly made beds. And the kitchen is always open for business when we’re craving cupcakes with jelly beans at 3am.
So there you have it. I, am Mother Pan. And I refuse to grow up.