You know when you're little and your parents love to see your squishy innocent face shoving itself into your birthday cake? Well, not only did my parents allow this, they thoroughly supported it. But... little did mom and dad know that a few faces full of frosting during my youth would lead to a lifetime of immaturity.
Lamely said, growing up is so cool, but getting old is so not. I'm never getting old because my childhood was an absolute storybook. So, instead of closing that storybook and writing a novel, I'm going to keep illustrating.
When I was young, I stressed about having enough dixie cups at my lemonade stand. I slept in a tent on the floor of my room for a straight month. I participated in each and every school talent show by singing off-key in front of hundreds of people. I watched the Norad Santa Tracker like brokers watch the stock market. I wore plaid bermuda shorts with polka dot shirts thinking I was as a fashion all-star. I had late-night dance parties with my older brother to "YMCA," "Cats in the Cradle," and "The Night Chicago Died" on my rad silver boombox. I jumped off my bunk bed with an umbrella to see if Mary Poppins was lying. My goldfish was named Kool-Aid. I videotaped Hannah Montana episodes only to rewatch them that same night underneath my green and pink floral sheets to feel a thrill. I dressed up as Princess Jasmine for Halloween three consecutive years in a row ignoring the permanent chocolate stains on the costume and never showing my belly once because I wore a white long-sleeve underneath the crop top. It was better to look modest than to catch a cold. Magic 8 balls made my important decisions. I slammed doors with strings attached to my sister's non-wiggly teeth, because that's what they did in the movies. I built fairy houses out of sticks and mud. I kept from getting bored on our 15+ hour family road trips by playing sweet-and-sour with truck drivers. My vacation nickname was Sparkles. I soft-cried to Taylor Swift's "Teardrops on My Guitar" about boys who picked their nose and ate it in front of me. Rainstorms were a reason to dance outside, and the ice cream truck melody was my favorite song.
To this day, my favorite color is sparkles. My college roommate tells me bedtime stories. I keep a journal beginning each entry with "dear diary" and signing off with "more later." My dad is Superman. I believe in 11:11 wishes, but more-so when they're at night. I hold my breath so hard while driving past graveyards you'd think my own life depends on it. I asked my mom to be my maid of honor (she said no). I get scared while playing hide-and-seek. Today, I ate Goldfish and grilled cheese for lunch. My parents still tightly squeeze my hand underneath the dinner table every time I say something that "crosses the line" (& my hands may be permanently bruised because I "just never know when to stop talking").
I'm getting older, sure, but I am absolutely never growing up.
For this reason, and this reason only, I knew I had to enter into adulthood on my 18th birthday the exact same way I did when I turned one year old, with a face covered in frosting.
Benjamin Button didn't have a say in it, but, boy, he had it right.
What keeps you up at night? My nightlight does.
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