Clumsiness and Childhood

It seems as if I can't write this post without laughing a bit to myself, because I'm clumsier now than I ever was as a child.

I woke up this morning with a smile on my face (surprisingly), and for some unknown reason I decided to wear a dress... which is shockingly uncharacteristic of me. Anyhow, I wore my pink cotton shirtdress, cowgirl boots, and denim jacket and of course, I was feeling pretty good. :) ...
and then I got off of the bus.

The toe of my boot got caught between two slabs of uneven cement, and I went down. To the ground. Somehow, I have a way of landing gracefully, fortunately for everyone nearby. I was wearing a skirt, mind you! I landed on one knee, scraped it up, ruined my boot, and hurt my pride all in one swift move.

Besides being entirely pissed off about my boots, (they're my favorite by the way), I realized something strange.

I haven't had a scraped knee since I was ten. And so much has changed since then.

Then, my mama or daddy cleaned it up for me.
Then, I got a Hello Kitty or Barbie bandaid.
Then, I had an awesome story to tell about how I got the scrape.

This time, I had to clean it up myself.
This time, I got a plain, brown bandaid.
This time, I had no story to tell.

This adulthood business is no fun. I stopped being a kid so long ago, I hadn't even realized how much has changed. Responsibility is nice. Independence is nice. But childhood bliss wasn't just nice. It was priceless.

So my adulthood clumsiness taught me a very valuable lesson today. Don't stop being a kid.

I'm only 18. Supposedly my childhood just ended... but it's amazing how quickly I had already forgotten that we need to have fun in our lives... college has a way of making you forget that, eh?

So get out, do something fun!

I dare you.



P.S. Laugh a little too. Ever notice how much kids laugh? That's for a reason.

Here's a joke to get you started:

A woman runs into a doctor’s office and says “DOCTOR! DOCTOR! You have to help me! Everywhere I touch on my body it hurts!”
The doctor replied, “Show me.”
So the woman poked her ankle and screamed of pain. Then she poked her knee and yelled OW. She poked her forehead and screamed again.
She was about to continue when the doctor said, “That’s enough, let me think this over.” He thought for about a minute and said “I think I know what your problem is. You broke your finger.”