Oh To Be a Baby!

For Jack.  Your mama is envious at all you get to do~

I want to be a baby.

I want to smash food into my face like it's my job.
I want to be blissfully ignorant about calories and fat and that pink stuff they're calling
Chicken McNuggets.

But I know too much.
I know about sodium and trans fats and that chicken, under no circumstances, should ever be pink!

I want to pick a doctor because she has the best magazines in her waiting room.
Glossy, shiny ones with none of the good articles ripped out.
Just give me a lollipop and a Hello Kitty Band-Aid when I'm through.

But somewhere along the line I learned that you need to stay in your network
that all copays are not created equal
and that around age 13, they only give you the beige Band-Aid

I want to take a huge box of crayons and draw all over my wall
I want to prove that I'm a prodigy by intentionally picking "Goldenrod" over just plain yellow
and "Cornflower" over just plain blue
I want to dig those crayons into the wall like a gardener digs her hands into the earth

But have you ever tried to wash crayon off of a wall?
It's hard to justify the wall art when there are perfectly good notepads lying around.

I want to scream and cry and swing my little fists when I get upset
But my fists have gotten bigger as I've gotten older
and I know that they can do damage now, so best not to swing them around.

There's no turning back
I can't un-know what I know.
I don't want to be a baby
But sometimes, yes sometimes...

I just want to forget how to be an adult.