As soon as I get home to visit I revert back into my teenage kid self.
The kid who didn’t have to clean house, buy groceries, cook meals, or help run a family.
The kid who had hours to read, play on the internet, or chat with friends.
The kid who gets to go out with her best friend to concerts.
The kid whose mom spoils her by doing things for her, even if she could really have done it herself.
The kid who was able to be completely ridiculous and hyper because that’s what kids do.
The kid who didn’t know what real cares and worries were.
Only this time, it’s better.
Because I’m not a kid, I’m actually a responsible mother and adult.
Because I realize just how easy that kid had it back then.
Because I can do things like being hyper out in public, getting in touch with my “inner-ness” and making my siblings do it too, and not care who sees or what they think about me.
Because I’m comfortable enough with myself that I can post pictures like this on the internet
and only hope that you’re laughing as hard as I am about it.
It’s just like being a kid again….only better!