I Want to Be a Two-Year-Old 30-Year-Old
I remember the moment I realized I was jealous of my kid. We were sitting in the living room and a smallish Ikea box sat in the middle of the floor. My son came in idly munching on a fig bar and stopped. It was clear from the look on his face that it was suddenly crucial that he get into this box one way or the other. It was a little too small and, I'm sure, uncomfortable. None of this mattered. He had a job to do.
Kid got into the box and sat there for a good minute or so, basking in the glory of a job well done. Then he realized this was a bad idea and proceeded to whine very loudly until I rescued him. I imagine, though, that he was his own superhero for a few seconds there.
After that, I realized that two-year-olds are jerks. And I wanted to be one so badly.
Not go back to being two -- that would suck. I want to be two and be 30 all at once. Like, I want to be allowed to watch Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead, but I also would like to be allowed to smear food I like all over my face as an indicator of my appreciation.
Among other things I would like to do:
If I'm being asked to do something, I would like to be allowed to shake my head from side to side so hard that I fall over and the other person throws their hands up, sighs, and says "FINE." They then go do whatever it is themselves and I go off to break something.
I would like to learn new things and then yell them at people millions of times in a row until the New Thing loses its novelty. I will then refuse to talk about what I've learned ever again, even if you ask me about it.
When I am over at people's houses, I want to knock their things and family photos from the shelves and coffee table. When you ask me not to, I will simply move to a new room to destroy things in there. I will also find things of yours that I like, and will try to leave with them.
If I am seized with a sudden need to start screaming, I will scream. You will politely ask me to stop and then try to simply talk over me. I'll just continue to go up in volume until you ask me what I want, to which I will reply with more screaming.
If you make me happy, I will hug you and kiss you. If you displease me, I will try to smack you in the mouth. There is a very good chance you will experience both of these things in one encounter.
When you order me to be somewhere I don't want to be, I reserve the right to turn on my heel and run away, flapping my arms wildly from side to side yelling a high-pitched, trailing "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
I will make you watch the same cockamamie episodes of the same show numerous times in a row. Even if the show ended after one season, you will feel like it lasted for 10 because you will watch each episode with me over and over and over. And God help you if you try to introduce anything new. I will punish you by yelling the name of my show louder and louder until you lose the will to live.
These are just a few things I could think of that I imagine must be pretty freeing, but that's not to say that being 30 doesn't have it's perks either! For example, the other night I was craving pancakes for dinner, but then I remembered I'm still trying to get back into shape after giving birth five months ago so I had a salad instead! See? Benefits!
God, being an adult sucks.