Have you ever caught yourself saying “when I was a kid…” and then realised, hang on a second I still do that. If you have not, you clearly have hacked life because for me and most of my friends we still catch ourselves being immature and usually bratty kids on, at the very least, a weekly basis.

For those watching us, I’m sure we are a rather amusing sight, if not decidedly annoying. After all, a bunch of college students getting excited over something like skittles or chocolate or dancing in the rain or singing “the wheels on the bus” at the top of our lungs between campuses is not the kind of thing people would expect at med school forget any where else. I still buy those cigar sweets and pretend I’m smoking and pick out all the colored jelly tots before I eat the black ones. I’ve jumped from concrete dividers counting out loud. I still climb into jungle gyms, even though I’m way way over the twelve year old age limit, and play arcade games to win toys I’ll never actually use. As a group of friends, I suppose we take the idea of a wacky Wednesday  a tad literally.

Unfortunately for the poor souls who wish my friends and I would just grow up already, we’re rather unaffected by their looks of scorn and disdain. I’m not sure if it’s our immaturity, lack of care or simply because we are quiet comfortable being in touch with our inner child but the world of adulting is rather unattractive to us. We’ve embraced the freedom of childhood and ensure that every day has just a hint of childish exuberance, investigation and exploration. Perhaps part of it is that for most of us, we were never forced to grow up. Sure we had responsibilities but mum and dad are always around to guide us through the really difficult decisions. We were never really forced to skip from thirteen to thirty, so we’re simply taking our time. Not to mention that, the older we get, the more we seem to realise that no one actually knows whats going on they’re simply winging it and feigning confidence. It’s almost as though we’ve decided to add an element of fun to the otherwise mundane and repetitive adult world.

Being the oldest from four siblings I have the chance to witness the difference in how kids grow up now compared to how I experienced my childhood and to be quiet honest it’s actually incredibly scary. My little sister has skipped almost all the awkward growing up milestones. She skipped straight from being a primary school kid with mud stained clothes and a boys haircut to supermodel style and flawless eyeliner. She has all the confidence and surety adults carry and none of the second guessing that I still catch myself experiencing. She seems to have skated over the insecure and wimpy teen years and waltzed straight into an older much more sophisticated age, that to this day evades me completely.

However, much as I wish I was as sophisticated as her, I feel a little sad that she seems to be completely out of touch with her inner child. She makes decisions in the practical, logical way adults do without any of the necessary trial and error attempts. She’s got the world figured out in black and white. Nothing special and no extra colors. To be perfectly honest, ninety nine percent of the time my ideas and reactions to stressful situations are solely based on inspiration from my inner child. It keeps me on my toes and motivated. My inner child has all the energy and drive adult me often lacks, not to mention a creative side I envy. On more than one occasion these qualities have saved my ass and helped me wiggle out of a sticky situation with a cheeky grin and twinkling eyes.

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Though I guarantee my mum is reading this and slapping her forehead muttering “This child is the cause of my grey hairs…. why can’t she grow up and be a good adult daughter ready for marriage.” I am in no real hurry to grow up. Why should I give up the fun part of life, simply to embrace the intricacies of adulthood when I can add some sugar and spice to them instead? Does it make sense to become a boring and predictable person when instead we could be waltzing our way through the streets of New York or splashing in the beaches of Bali? Sometimes the only way to make your mark is to challenge what everyone else thinks is normal.

So, instead of forcing myself to grow up and be the adult the world insists is who I should be, I choose to sit here and color in my coloring book while sucking on a fizzpop and wearing mismatched pjs. Then I will climb into bed, rub my eyes (even though adult me knows this is probably the reason I am half blind and my optician sees me so regularly) and cuddle up to my pillow as I read a bed time story to myself.

Once a kid… Always a kid…

Young at Heart,

Brokebella