When I Grow Up...

When you think about it, the transition between being a child and not being a child is REALLY ODD. When does it happen? You must just wake up on certain days, and that is the last day you ever ever do something. You must wake up all innocently, not knowing or realising that you will never have an imaginary tea party again, or get invited to a party with a ropey clown and jelly, or play out on the street, or get pocket money, or eat a mini milk...

Don't get me wrong, there are many things I love about being grown up. (I use that phrase lightly). I love playing house for real, and not having a curfew, and being able to eat PopTarts for breakfast, but there are A LOT of things I miss about being a child.

Here are some of my biggest misses:

- Having NOTHING to worry about other than who was going to be my best friend for  
  that day, and whether my parents would notice that I was trying to sneak out to school 
  in my jelly shoes. (They always did.)

- Saturday night: I was allowed to eat my tea in front of Generation Game. This was a big  
  deal. It would always consist of  sandwiches cut into triangles, probably some pom bears 
  and something from the Sainsbury's bakery counter. YES.

- Knowing my Mum had all the answers, and knowing she would sort all my problems. 
  (Lies, she still does this.)

- MAKING DENS. Although I'd spend ages in the planning and design processes and then  
  about three minutes actually in there before I got bored.

- You want to wear sparkly purple leggings and a neon green floral top with socks and 
  sandals. Go for it Olwen. Stick-on earrings? Why not. You're seven years old. You can 
  officially wear what you like and not be judged.

- It being acceptable to make up dance routines to Boyzone.

- It being acceptable to spend hours giving Girl World a makeover.

- Having the life ambition of being a shop keeper or sailor.

If my future children don't want to do any of the above, I honestly think I'll be heartbroken.

x