I remember a phone conversation I had with my friend Holly a while back. When she answered, I could hear the distinctive sound of ice cubes tinkling in a glass.
“Gin and tonic for dinner?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, slurping. “A Coke. Because I’m a grownup now, so I can.” Pause. “But maybe I should make a salad or something, too.”
That conversation got me thinking. What are all those things about childhood that we so-called-adults just forget? When I was a kid, adults were from another planet. Not only would they choose vegetables over Coke for dinner, despite possessing the power to do otherwise, but they would do such unfathomable things as go to the beach and not swim, or dismiss the idea of living in Disney World as “impractical”.
What would the kid me have wanted the mom me to remember about her planet?
- Sometimes, I really, really don’t want to eat something. Mom, I love you, and you are an awesome cook, but…circa 1983 there were a couple of attempts at a new exotic culinary trend called “Stir Frying” that ended badly. They involved shoe leather cuts of beef, a sad green pepper and Ben’s minute rice. I was never a picky eater but I remember pleading “Mom! I can’t do it!” I received little sympathy for my unwillingness to sample the latest ethnic cuisine, so I was left to chew, and chew, and chew, disgusted beyond belief, unable to break down the shoe leather beef with my six-year-molars. At that point I announced that I was going to vomit. Which I did. On the table. To my mom’s credit, she did not make Shoe Leather “Stir Fry” again. My point is that A) when a kid weeps that they can’t do it, they really and truly can’t and B) Peanut Butter on Toast > Puked Up “Nutritious” Dinner, any day. The End.
- It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve already watched that movie. I want to watch it again. And again. As an adult, it’s hard to fathom watching a movie, even one you truly love, more than twice. Three times tops (if the movie features Colin Firth or Gael Garcia Bernal) and holiday movies are exempt. But I digress. There are movies from my childhood that I have watched so many times I can still repeat entire passages verbatim. “You have 13 hours in which to solve the labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us…forever…” and “ONE POINT TWENTY-ONE GIGAWATTS!” jump to mind. Plus, watching a movie in the basement with a bunch of friends is just one of the most awesome things ever. So yeah, watching a movie you’ve seen seventy-five times already is perfectly acceptable kid behavior, and not a sign of any sort of compulsive disorder or agoraphobia. It’s just another opportunity to relish your favourite scenes, hang out with your buddies, obsess over your movie star crush, find some new previously unseen detail, or finalize your adapted script for “Pretty in Pink on Broadway”. That’s just what a kid wants to do, sometimes. And that’s okay.
- Waterslides are, like, the best thing ever. What’s better than a waterslide? Some of my best childhood memories involve shivering in line at Magic Mountain and the wedgies that ensued. The adult in me sees a water park and thinks seventeen dollars a kid to splash around in ten billion gallons of chlorinated pee? But you know, when I am on my deathbed, I will NOT say, “Well, I’m sure glad I saved that money and prevented a pesky case of of athlete’s foot!” I will say “Let’s go, people..for ONE LAST WATERSLIDE!” So next time we’re on a road trip, and we’re on hour seven of “making good time”, and it’s 35 degrees Celsius out and everyone is cranky and we drive by one of those totally dicey side-of-the-road-in-the-middle-of-nowhere waterparks and Callum says “PLEEEEEEEEEEASE can we?”…I just might say yes.
- Lame praise is no praise at all. Remember showing someone a picture you drew? And you were all I was so INNOVATIVE to combine crayon with Magic Markers! or how awesome is that Ninja Turtle driving the fire truck? and the person you show your masterpiece to says Hmmmmm Very Nice. Was that not infuriating? Kid me to grownup me: look at the damn picture. For real.
- My parents are embarrassing beyond belief but I still love them (secretly). I have a friend whose father would threaten to come to the neighborhood teenage hangout and play his accordion if she was past her curfew. To my knowledge, she always came home on time. Because when you are 14, nothing is more embarrassing than your parents. You don’t want to be seen with them. You don’t want to be associated with them. In fact, it would be preferable if everyone just assumed you were raised by wild jackals, and didn’t have parents at all. And you certainly didn’t want them showing up at the skateboarding ramps (God forbid) playing the blasted accordion. Maybe the mom me will have trouble not taking this personally. I just need to remind myself that no matter how much the mere fact of my existence induces heaving sighs, eye rolls, and slammed doors…I am still needed. And loved. I just might need to give it a couple of years.
What would the kid you want the grownup you to remember?
This is so great, because I’ve mentally compiled my own list of these…but here’s the MOST important one. Don’t walk around the house scantily clad. My mother did this and it just always grossed me out; but what was even worse was when friends were over and she’d mosey on out into the yard in a little tube top and tiny shorts to “get a little sun”….oh…so mortifying!!