Table Topic Tuesday. 4/22.

Another Tuesday. Another topic!

My inner child isn’t super funny. Some things never change. And she does not want to think.

 

But she does want to be petted.
She wants her hair brushed and braided, shook loose and brushed and braided again and again.

She wants an unlimited supply of bubble gum in the pouch–you know the sugar-dusted string kind? She wants two cheekfuls of bubble-blowing ammo.

She wants to dance to every thumping beat, whenever she hears it, even if it’s on a crowded aisle 6, smack in the middle of the grocery store rush hour.

She wants to go to Disney and run from ride to ride so not a single second is wasted. She actually wants to ride It’s a Small World, because it is a small world, after all, and she wants to shamelessly scream-sing along, at the tip top of her lungs. She still loves the People Mover, the Carousel of Progress, Dumbo. She wants to meet every character (although she does not want to wait in line) get their autograph and trace each letter of their signature with her pointer finger.

She wants to go back to school, learn something and prove it, get a 100 on a test and feel the fleeting high of near-perfection.

My inner child wants to swap her lunch for her friend’s dessert, roller blade around and around and around a rink to Color Me Badd, go a day without a stitch of make up.

And she kinda wants an afro.

Enough about me. Here’s what my friends think.

 

Javi says:

My inner child is a little jerk face. There. I said it. He’s has no volume control. He questions every decision I make – tirelessly persuading me to do things. And, he’s constantly pressing me to get his way. His demands are relentless and he is unwavering in his fortitude. “CAKE IS MY FAVORITE KIND OF BREAD!”, he decrees. I refute him. “LIVE ON A DIET OF CEREAL ALONE!” he orders. I fight him away.  “WEAR A CAPE! DRESS FOR THE JOB YOU WANT!” he commands. I deny him. “ADULT FOOTIE PAJAMAS ARE ON SALE!”, he proclaims. And, I shove his hand away from clicking “Add to cart”. “MAKE A BOUNCE HOUSE, YOUR REAL HOUSE!”, he mandates. I stand strong against his convincing argument, despite the many obvious bounce house benefits. “BRING ME A JET PACK!” he exclaims. And, because of the gross lack of jet packs available to the general public, I cannot oblige him. Luckily, I cannot. Luckily for all of us. For the world. Because, if my inner child had a jet pack he would be virtually unstoppable. With a jet pack, mooning a flying plane would no longer be an issue. In fact, it wouldn’t even be a question. On a whim he would travel to beautiful lands to see stunning sights, historic monuments, and wonders of the world… and he would TP them. And, at night, he would silently fly through your bedroom window, and draw wieners on your face while you slept. He would basically be like awful Santa Claus.

Lindsay says:

I’m not sure I understand the question. And that’s probably because I’m an adult now. Children have an answer for every question, no matter what it is. No matter if it’s crazy or zany or makes no sense at all. But I bet my inner child wants Beanie Babies to come to life. I bet my inner kid wants a snow day in the middle of the summer. I would bet money that my inner child wants Mickey and Minnie Mouse to have breakfast with her every single morning. I bet my inner (fat) kid wants candy for breakfast and to never touch a vegetable ever again. But I think what my inner kid really wants is just to be a kid forever.

 

Your turn. What funny shenanigans does your inner kiddo want to get into?