Why Are We So Adultish?

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Last Sunday was potentially the best day ever on record.

I mean, if we ignore the fact that he told me to ‘go away’ when he first saw me. After that he was all hugs and kisses.

On the way to the swimming pool we played a real fun game: I pretend to put my hand in a holly bush and hurt myself and he grabs my hand and kisses it better. He thinks it is hilarious when I hurt myself. I try not to be offended.  And then we bowled into the swimming pool and pranced around and played chase and I pretended to be a shark and Sonny kept dunking my head under the water which was fun and also kind of dangerous because he had no concept of how long I could hold me breath for. I nearly drowned.

But it was worth it for the LOLs. We had all the LOLs.

When we were getting changed in the cubicles I could hear someone telling off a child for being silly, and they said, “Stop being so childish!” Meanwhile, in a changing room a few doors down, myself and Sonny were, instead of getting changed, emptied out a whole bottle of talcum powder with great force onto our heads and bodies. It got me thinking, why are we so quick to tell a child to stop being a child, yet we rarely tell another adult to stop being so adulty? As a society we respect adulthood far more than childhood.

  What I have grown to realise, is that adults are just children in disguise.

I feel conned by adulthood. Genuinely I feel like it is a hoax. When I was younger I used to think, “wow I can’t wait to be an adult! Look at them all, knowing about everything and being so wise and clever!”  And then you grow up and suddenly you are expected to be an adult. And you wish you were a kid again, putting mud in your hair or pretending to be a dog, instead of trying to get your head around interest rates and how best to remove a wine stain from the carpet.

So when did we all stop playing? And why? It is so fun. And so important, and the most efficient way to learn. And generally makes all involved very happy.

Sonny taught me that. He is really quite a good teacher, though I doubt he knows it.

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‘I’m Sorry!’ ‘No, I’m Sorry!’

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As it is half term I have been taking Sonny out during the week, so yesterday we went to a soft play centre in Kentish Town and then went for a (very long) walk up to Primrose Hill and through Camden Town.

He was being so chatty!

When we were walking up the hill (very slowly) he was saying ‘up, up, up!’ and when we were up on the top of the Hill Sonny said ‘cold’ and did the sign for it. And then when we were walking back down the hill he stopped to point and count 6 big buildings that he could see! (Click here to see a vid.)

In soft play we invented a new a game that involved me pretending to fall asleep and snore really loudly and then scare the living day lights out of him. (Click here to watch!) He then started to walk up to me (while I was fake sleeping) and shout ‘boo!’ in my ear! The game came to an abrupt end though when he took a running two-footed jump onto my tummy. I was pretty sure he cracked a rib, but I was just winded. Had to have 5 minutes break while I regained my breath and composure.

Apart from said injury and a minor fall out about which direction the bus stop was (turned out he was actually right. When I tried to apologise to him and say, ‘I’m sorry,’ he  kept on repeating it back to me saying, ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘No Sonny I am sorry, not you, I am sorry, I was wrong!’ I said. I am not sure he understood because he replied again with, ‘I’m sorry.’ And so on. If only all men were so quick to apologise!) we had  a lovely day and it didn’t rain! Win.

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