not a child

My roommate and I recently started taking turns reading a children's book to each other every night before bed. For childhood's sake. Two nights ago, we had an epiphany. And it was a sad epiphany. As we read Pizza For Breakfast, we sarcastically made comments about genies appearing in real life, and about Frank and Zelda's stupidity. As Ashley finished reading the story, it occured to me that our critical remarks proved that we have lost our innocence . A true kid would never criticize the varying lengths of Frank's beard, or entertain the thought that the "little man" was creepy. A true kid would get lost in the story and delight in the pictures and never once think about the improbability of genies and happy endings. There is something that sets a child's mind apart from the adult mind and I now believe that I know what it is.

pb n j

I sat on the floor in my dorm room today and ate peanut butter and jelly out of the jars with my fingers (for sheer pleasure of being childish). And I thought about how good they were-the peanut butter and jelly, not my fingers. And I thought about how thankful I was for them. And then I thought about how much I hated peanut butter and jelly when I was in high school. I also spilled jelly on the new carpet.