On Sitting on the Floor.
The other night I was baking cookies (yeah, I bake. And no, I didn’t start a kitchen fire) and due to our extremely unreliable oven I sat on the floor to watch the thermometer we have inside the oven (it may be good to note that I have a horrible history with baking – it hasn’t been a rare occurrence to pull out a tray of charcoal like lumps of what used to be cookies. So yeah, I really need to keep my eye on the goods). And as I sat on the floor my cats were looking at me like, “Wait – whoa. Is she sitting ONTHEFLOOR?!” So over they came and crawled on me and purred for more love. And then I realized it: I don’t spend enough time sitting in the floor.
But even bigger than that, I realized, I don’t spend nearly enough time doing the simple little things that always, without fail, can bring such a pure happiness. Those things we did all the time as kids; those things that made older people remember the kind of uninhibited joy that kids feel on a daily basis doing such ordinary and simple things.
Walking without shoes in the grass, in the sand.
Dancing around the house to music – or just to the beat in your head.
Eating spoonfuls of peanut butter.
Having a bowl of cereal for lunch – or dinner – or both.
Getting out a box of crayons, or markers, or paints and letting out the inner-Van Gogh.
Talking to animals.*
Doing cannonballs into the pool.
Drinking chocolate milk.
Playing “Freeze Tag.”
Counting the number of licks it takes to the get to the tootsie roll center of a Tootsie Pop.
What happens to make us forget about these things? When did we get too old to have the kind of simple fun that helped us grow up? Why does growing up mean leaving these simple joys behind?
But I don’t think there is a therefore – as in, “I grow up therefore I can no longer pretend to be a Thundercat,” (HO!) – I actually think we give these things up willingly. Like giving them up will mean we will be a real adult; make us successful and strong and intelligent. Like they were a phase meant to say, “Good-bye” to and that by doing so, that is the proof that we grew up.
This does not have to be.
And it won’t be for me.
Here’s to spoonfuls of peanut butter while watching, “Beauty and the Beast” on the floor; cheers to the kids in all of us!
*I actually do this so frequently that I think my cats may understand the english language as well as a 3 year old human kid can. No kidding.
**I took a bath last night for the first time in about 10 years – crazy thing is that in our house we have a big, nice tub, and it took almost 8 months for me to use it. There will be a next time – and soon!