Second Childhood Now Available

Last Saturday we went to my brother David’s house for a block party. It was humid. How unusual. It was also overcast and noisy and the streets were filled with kids running around. Some boys were playing basketball and trying to impress some cute girls who would rather be with the Jonas Brothers while younger kids thought eating until unconsciousness took hold was the order of the day.
And then there were precious little ones who drove the only man powered cars on the block…into my ankle.

I am not a regular visitor to block parties and all that goes on, but it is really geared toward the kids. They made smores along with their own ice cream sundaes, mummified willing victims with toilet paper and went on a scavenger hunt. With the help of my sister, Christine, the Cassidy team had chop sticks made out of twigs and a drawing of a fake nose as opposed to one of Michael Jackson’s. So much cheating for only a second place spot. We demanded a recount.

At the end of the block was this huge inflatable obstacle course. It looked like a huge plastic castle and kids would work their way through it and then run right back on line. I saw all the fun these kids were having in comparison to me sitting around. I was having one of those, “if this is how we adults are supposed to behave – keep it” moments and decided that I needed to change. I decided I was not going to sit on the sidelines and just watch. I was going to risk limb, life and reputation (so overrated) and go for it. But not in a skirt.

Armed in a pair of shorts and my uncanny ability to forget my age, I got on line. I got a couple of looks. From the kids on line. I made faces right back at them. Mature immaturity is a beautiful thing if it is used for the good of all.

It was a blast. In that crowded space were 2 of my nephews, Joshua and Dylan, who helped me when I fell (a lot), my sister who was keeping up with me or was it the other way around and my 2 year old niece, Celeste, who was on her 2nd trip through this obstacle course. It was great to be legless and laughing like a goofy (albeit cool) kid. I just didn’t care. I challenged myself to have a good old time and I did. I made it up the plastic rock wall on one trip (so there!) and was a bit disappointed when I saw I was at the end and had to go down the slide. Behind me came an assortment of family members and sweet Celeste who may not remember this time when her mother and I kept up with her, but I am sure that we will have time in between physical therapy sessions to remind her that we are not slowing down and missing out on the fun. Refusing to tap into our “child self” or thinking that we must act dignified at all times is so old.

Be a kid.

BTW, I did 2 miles on the treadmill the following morning. On an incline. Without screaming too much.n