This is the shitty part about being a grown-up–being reminded that pure, unaltered happiness once existed. When I think of the things that bring me happiness today (alcohol, alcohol, and a newly released Brie Olsen porno) I can’t help but feel jaded in my 28-year-old slowly deteriorating body.
What happened to mid-day naps, Capri Suns, goodie bags, and a perfectly wrapped gift waiting for me when I woke up on my birthday? Huh, mom? Get your shit together. And don’t tell me I’m an “adult” again. I do not own one matching pair of socks.
Bottom line is that this kid felt a sense of joy that has long escaped me. I feel happiness now, but restaurant leftovers don’t taste as good as goodie bags, mens leagues teams don’t make me feel like Jordan in his prime like recess hoops did, and back then I never had to worry about weird rashes on my pecker. Shit, I should probably get that checked out.
I’ll have mom call and make the appointment. Make herself useful.
P.S. I’d have serious concerns if my kid started sobbing after getting a computer console. My kids will only only be allowed to cry when I strike them.
