Kids

The things kids make. Wow.

Go, Nuclear!

You ever dream about nuclear bombs going off on the horizon when you were a kid?

Yeah, me too. This photo I just took took me back.

Enough

You needn’t be doing anything with this moment except precisely what you’re doing now.

… and the next moment will be taken care of too, so don’t worry about that.

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(Because people seem to struggle with the thought that they might not be using their time in a worthwhile way even when they’re doing stuff that’s hard, like raising kids, getting by and breathing. Do you know how hard it is to breathe sometimes? Yeah, I know you do. And just getting by ain’t easy. It takes courage to get up and face the day sometimes, especially when yesterday was such a struggle that you felt like giving up a thousand times a day. As for kids; they are tough little buggers that actually bounce most of the time when they fall over, but even thinking about them falling over and what could happen next is tougher than tough. But forget all that for this moment. For now, just be who you are, because you are very enough just now. And you’ll continue to be so.)

Should We Be More Like Kids?

Yesterday I had the thought that it’s the things that kids do that make them young and when we stop doing those things then we get old.

Today I had the thought that it’s the things that kids do that wear them out and make them old and that if we were more moderate as kids then we wouldn’t be so old afterwards.

I’m not sure which is true really. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. But ouch, this fence is digging into my bottom.

When I say ‘the things that kids do’ I mean the carefree attitude with which they live their lives and the resistance to authority and the ease with which they take new ideas on board and the creativity that they show when presented with obstacles and their appreciation of fun and their trusting nature and the openness they have to new people and stuff like that.

When I say ‘we get old’ I don’t just mean in terms of our attitudes, but also the manner in which our skin either sloughs off our face or gathers itself into bitter patterns.

Unfortunately, I’m at that age when I start to behave like a teenager again and so I’m not sure whether my support of teenage things has come as a result of being at this age or whether being at this age has led to me having a new appreciation of the things that I’ve lost.

Either way, I’m thinking of getting a skateboard. Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions?

flying

The Kids are (Al)Right

I understand now what it’s like to be a kid. It’s as painful as heck.

Kids don’t want to do the same things as their parents do. They have different interests and if they’re forced to conform and he what their parents want them to be then it’s infinitely painful for them. They just don’t find their parent’s interests interesting, and that’s that.

The only way to get them involved in the things of another generation is to reward them. Rewards are like bribes. Bribes are like payments for the time they losing away from their real interests. It works in the same way that paid employment does, except that these are kids that you’re paying with snacks and spending money. It’s like child labour, which is, as you well know, is illegal. And if it isn’t illegal in your part of the world then it darned well should be.

Pity the kids who can’t spend time doing what they want to do with their time. And don’t even ask what it is that they want to do because it’s none of your freakin’ business, Mom. Just accept that they are not you, trust that they won’t do anything too bad and just get on with your own life.

Nuff said.

The Kids was Bored

The kids was bored and so, to sharpen them up, we telled them that the world was going to end in 10 minutes – boom – just like that. And they said ‘well, what’s that got to do with us?’ and we said that when the world ends then we all end and that means you and me and they said ‘does that mean that we will be dead?’ and we said ‘yes’.

Course we was not really sure if they knew what dead meant, what with them only being eight and all that, but they seemed to take it seriously enough. Their little foreheads creased up and their eyes went kinda far away as if they was thinking and then they said ‘so that means that we don’t get to have lunch’ and we thought to ourselves that this was typical of what kids was like – always thinking about their bellies or whatever was about them, them, them. Selfish little buggers. So we said ‘yeah, no lunch’ and then, just for wickedness, we said ‘and then straight to bed.

Course this was a really stupid thing to say because if the world was going to end and all of that then there wasn’t going to be no bed time as such except to say that it’d be bed time for all of us if you know what I mean. The big sleep and all of that.

Luckily they didn’t twig on. So, with only three minutes left to the world we thought that perhaps it’d be alright because the kids didn’t say much after that They just sat, picking their noses and watching the clock as it ticked towards one, which is when ten minutes was going to be up. Cunning buggers. Cunning and cute and all sorts of stuff like that. When it pinged one they just jumped up and said ‘yaaaaa, world didn’t end; another game!’ and so we had to think of another one.

Still, they wasn’t bored no more so I guess that’s one upside to the world ending.

Heart Felt

Do you remember when we were kids and we hadn’t run out of new things to say or do yet? When each day was so different to the one before that we might as well have gone to sleep and then woke up on another planet? When we asked people questions and the things they said took the tops of our heads off and scrambled our brains; not like eggs but in a good way? Remember those days?

And all we want to do now is find out way back to those times; even if we can’t acknowledge that to ourselves or anyone else. But instead we’re set in titanium by the jobs and marriages and friendships we’re in. And anything that we try to change about ourselves; any strap or buckle we try to adjust on our staightjackets is greeted with puzzled looks, confused questions or outright disdain. Because why would we want to be other than what we are? Why change what is obviously perfect?

Well I’m changing still. I’ve not done finding wonders. I’ve not finished asking questions. There are planets out there to explore and if anyone tells me anything different then I’m going to make a sandwich and stash it in a bag with some pop and crisps and then head off on my bike towards the unexplored horizon.

And will it be dangerous? Heck, I hope so! Because if it isn’t, then I’m still sat at the kitchen table dreaming and hoping … but dying by degrees.

Who’s with me?