Acting like children

Easter was a few weeks ago - the most casual and pastel holiday of them all. It was a beautiful day and after a delicious and filling brunch at my grandparents house, my siblings, cousin, and I decided to go to a park and hang outside.

After walking onto a pond pier only to find out it was swarmed with beehives, we quickly regathered and soon found ourselves swinging on swings, teeter-tottering, and doing amateur gymnastics in the grass.

My brother Nick was determined to do a perfect cartwheel (much like Creed in The Office's New Years resolution episode). I probably hadn't cartwheeled in years, but his enthusiasm inspired me. I began my orbit into cartwheel land and started to try and teach Nick how it's done. I did 3 cartwheels in a row just to feel dizzy. Nick then started to attempt headstands, and I followed suit. By the time we were done I had grass stains on the knees of my pants. It was like we were kids again, but without the blissful ignorance and lack of obligations.

We felt a weird type of nostalgia that day. It was realizing that we'd done this all before, together, but as kids. And here we were, adults, once again reveling at the simplicity of playing at a park. While swinging and in-between laughter I joked that our lives had come full circle.

There should really be parks made for adults. Swings that go higher. Slides that have more intense static shocks. Monkey bars that lead to actual bars that serve nostalgia-inspired alcoholic beverages... so, strictly Dirty Shirley's. Or we should all just agree to break the stigma that it's strange for adults to play at parks without children.

I just want to swing on some swings! And I do, more often than you'd probably believe. And you should too. Swing life away or whatever!

Moral of the story: step back into your adolescence every once in a while, swing on a swing or two. You'll be glad you did, it's fun as hell.