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And there I was, setting the ground to play hopscotch with my son.
I saw one of my neighbours staring at me, so I said “morning” and continued immerse in my important task…. Ready! Let’s play….
- “You are not going to play, are you? My neighbour asked.
- “Sure I am”, I replied.
- “Uh, don’t you think you are too old to do that?” she insisted
-“Ermmm, I don’t……are you?” I answered with a broad smile and threw the stone to the first square.
It wasn’t the first time she wanted me to behave as a grown-up. “Are you really going to wear that mini skirt?” “You wouldn’t dance that kind of music, would ya” “Why don’t you have your hair cut? It’s too long for your age”, “A tattoo? Are you kidding me?” and so on and on and on…..
The thing is, what is a grown up anyway? According to her comments, a grown-up is a person who “behaves his/her age”
What does that mean? I refuse to give up doing what I like just because someone tells me I’m an adult. Should I stay still, cut my hair and follow the “rules”?….no way!
I know that I won’t start behaving as a child in the middle of my classes..(Sometimes I do, though) or acting silly while having an important meeting, you know what I mean…but all that depends on where I am or what I’m doing, it doesn’t depend on how old I am.
My inner child dances happily inside my soul, and I love every move she makes and I’m more than pleased she’s stayed by my side through the years. I don’t want to watch some kids jumping the rope and think to myself “Oh I wish I could do it!” I just say “Can I?” I jump two or three times and then I continue my way, but extraordinarily happy.
After all, it’s when I’m a grown-up that I suffer the most, or take things more seriously than I should.
So, next step: as soon as classes are over I’ll get my tattoo done on my ankle…. and guess what? I’ll wear my mini skirt, knock my grumpy neighbour’s door and say “hey! look what I have!!!” He he he, too childish I know……I will feel soooooooo good!!!
hopscotch
Grown-up
My MoOd ToDaY:
Monday, November 27, 2006
UgLy UgLy GrOwN-uP nEiGhBoUr
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Hi Analia,
On your site I saw miracles. I saw people who does not grow to be grown-up.
-- At 1:18AM from Beijing.
Hi Analia
Ignore your neighbour. We are never to old to play games, have long hair, have a tattoo, dance to music or wear a mini skirt!!
Actually; thinking about it; perhaps I am too old for a mini skirt!!!(LOL)
Rx
Analia
LOL
DA DA DA DA , DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO,DA DA DA DA
Mini skirts and Hop Scotch, wonderful!!!! can I play pleeaaaaase. No washing machine grey underwear I promise
So true what you wrote about that inner child we have the happy one too that needs the sunshine on her face
Much love and feather pink boas and stilleto heels that are far too big for our little grown up feet
Oh, Analia, you have really started something here! First, I want to come and - just before a good game of hopskotch, then maybe a kick-about with your son, followed by that dinner from yesterday - have a word or 10 with this comedian of a neighbour of yours.
Difference between Analia and her neighbour: the neighbour is a very dry onion and Analia is alive.
If you feel good in the mini-skirt (WHERE was the m-skirt when the onion asked you that???), you go right ahead. It looks like you can wear it well, to judge by your pic. Make sure you dance in the street, to Jagger & Bowie. Short hair, you're not ready. Tattoo, where? But no spiders, right? I think that you have to tell the onion that if he/she/it doesn't like it, perhaps he/she/it shouldthink about moving away! As for you, Go Girl!!! I love it! And good to see M here too.
Oh, a late PS re. M-NA M-NA. Sure, I called him and what was the first thing he heard when he picked up his phone? "M-NA M-NA"...Silence, then a cool, cautious, but formal: "That's great, yeah". Realising he didn't know it was me, I said something louder and ruder. A pause again, then the cent dropped into his brain. After the laughing, he told me that he has been getting "business calls" from a male prostitute and he thought it was him again. M-NA M-NA. That's L. A. for you! Kissitos.
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