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.