I’m visiting some family and all of my cousins are under eight years old. One day and eight tickle fights and they’ve already run me out of breath! It makes me miss being that age. They don’t care about homework or impressing crushes. They just run around, screaming and laughing about every little thing. They drag me off my computer screen and make me play with them. Real playing. We chase each other around and have huge pillow fights and race toy cars. And of course, we have tickle fights. Three boys, age 7, 5, and 4 all tackle me onto a mattress and scream, “Let’s fight!! Let’s fight!!” I laugh, stand up, and roar, pretending to be a monster. They scream in pretend terror and scatter around the room. I pop up onto my feet and chase the boys around. One by one, I grab them, pick them up, and toss them onto a mattress as they wriggle and struggle to break my grip, bursting into a fit of giggles.
It’s rare for people my age to play like that. I’ve forgotten how much fun it is. I’ll really miss playing with them once I leave. Being a little kid was so much fun. A cardboard tube was a sword and a pillow our shield, as we battled the couch dragon.
I wish I didn’t have to grow older.