In this country, at the age of 18 you are legally considered an adult. But adult as it is defined = “fully developed and mature.” I don’t know about you but I’ve known kids who were surely adult before their time, as well as contemporaries who I could certainly never term adult.
When did you realize that you were no longer a child?
Was it a number? Turning sweet-driver’s-license-16, 18-and-legal, realizing that you were too old for admittance to Space Camp?
Was it an event? Losing your virginity, going to college, your first job, children of your own?
Or perhaps it was something more intangible? Your responsibilities outweighed your freedom?
The innocence of childhood is a beautiful thing and I am sometimes saddened to see that time shortening in these more modern days. The most lovely and bittersweet way I heard someone describe their awareness of the waning of childhood was just the other day: “I think I realized that I was no longer a child when I began protecting it.” **SIGH**
A certain amount of innocence, playing with toys and devil-may-care friskiness is balm for the soul. I have long been proud to claim that I am still a bit of a child. Remember…
I am rubber and you are glue; it bounces off of me and sticks to you!