The Child Within Us

Thanks to the internet, we can see how weird we all truly are. I guess that makes being weird normal now. But you know who has always been weird? Children. That’s to be expected though. Have you ever run into a child that acts like an adult? It’s freaky and I’m sure the one thing on our mind is “is the Omen actually real?”. I just love when kids act like kids. They play games that can keep them busy for hours and can conjure up an elaborate story with just markers and paper. My little brother was grounded once and, therefore, sent to the bathroom. Not realizing my Mother had left a box of markers in there, my brother walked out a couple hours later with a cowboy made up of colored tissue paper strung together with dental floss. My Mother was so impressed that, 25 years later, she still has it proudly framed in her home. A child’s imagination is thriving in their little heads and has no boundaries that years of life experiences will eventually limit. It makes me grateful to know that we were all there once. Unfortunately, for some of us, we were forced to grow up too quickly. Whether it was economical, a tragedy, or just more responsibilities, we eventually have to experience life. Before we know it, our imagination is stifled by day-to-day chores, social obligations, Netflix, and the internet.

However it was the internet that prompted this post. I saw an Instagram reel of a parent recording their child doing something silly, but it seemed to make complete sense to that child. That video stirred memories of the weird things I used to do.

When I was around 14 years old, I used to create Yahoo! chat forums encouraging people to post their relationship questions or predicaments and I’d offer my advice. I hope I didn’t seriously ruin anyone’s life. In an attempt to justify my teenage-self, I was (1) curious what kinds of problems people had in relationships (given that I had never been in one), and (2) I actually did want to help people. And let me tell you, people are LOOKING for answers. I received so many stories and questions from girls all over the world. Thankfully, and rightfully, the therapists have taken that role from me.

As a child, and up to the day I left for college, one of my favorite spots was sitting on the roof outside my bedroom window. If my Mom was about to come yell at me, I’d hide from her there. But I also loved sitting out there to watch people. No one ever knew I was looking, and people do weird things when they don’t think anyone is looking. Oh, if only TikTok were around then.

When I was pretty small, I’d lay all the way down in the tub and stretch my legs with all my strength to try to make my toes touch the other end. It was a goal at every bath time. Now I can’t even submerge all limbs at once.

Every time I played House, or any other game that had me play anyone but me, my name was Heidi. I really wanted my name to be Heidi. I loved that name.

Before they posted song lyrics online, or really before I realized they did, I would record a song from the radio on my cassette tape. I’d hit play and stop it after a few seconds to write down the lyrics. There was definitely a lot of rewinding. I can’t even imagine that level of patience now. But this is also why I know every word of Cher’s “Believe” and Eminem’s “The Real Slim Shady”. Radio edit of course.

My parents rewarded my school efforts by letting me pick a toy under $20 at Toys R’ Us, but only if I got straight A’s. I have two vivid memories of this occurrence, each with one of my parents. The first I was at Toys R’Us with my Mother and I was hunting for a toy that would increase my playtime satisfaction. At this time, I was very into Barbies and fashion. So I picked out an outfit (they used to sell them separately), for my Barbie. It looked like something Cher would wear in Clueless. The other time I got to pick a toy was with my Father. He was on his way to Osco Drug to pick up a 6-pack with his friend, and I’m pretty sure my Mother told him I had gotten straight A’s and could pick out a toy. I was walking down the toy aisle at Osco and eyed this tea set on the top shelf. I pointed up to it since I couldn’t reach it, and when my Dad grabbed it, he eyed it suspiciously (it probably cost no more than $5), and he was like, “Are you sure?”. ABSOLUTELY. It was nothing but tea time after that with all my Barbies, stuffed animals, and imaginary friends. I think my Dad even joined me once. I would fill in the little tea cups with water, and have pointless conversations. I’m pretty sure that tea set prepped me for the dreaded “small talk” we encounter now as adults.

Going back to my stuffed animals, they were also my students when I played “School”. Each one of them was made their own custom lunch card. Eventually, my brothers would play “School” with me and they actually did the homework I assigned them.

Cartwheels. So many cartwheels. I did a cartwheel a couple years ago and I thought I was going to pass out from all the blood that rushed to my head. But every time I see a long hallway…. I still get the cartwheel urge.

One urge I don’t get anymore is telling my Mother I hate her. I used to tell her so many times, and I meant it with all my heart. Learning to control your emotions as a child is hard, but I’m glad she was patient with me (sometimes). My heart is full of nothing but love for her now.

In first grade recess, before my best friend growing up introduced herself to me, I used to play in the school parking lot by myself because I was too shy to be near other kids. I’d sit on the parking curb and would make structures with sticks and rocks. I was literally that kid hitting a rock with a stick.

Jurassic Park made me seriously think about Motherhood. That is, if my baby was a dinosaur. We had toys that were “hatching” dinosaur eggs. I’d make up a story about protecting my dinosaur baby from other beasts including other Dinos that wanted to eat it, and scientists that wanted to experiment on it.

I never thought of consequences. Not later-in-life consequences, but 2-seconds-later consequences. Like the time I decided to do pushups with a flashlight sticking out of my mouth and almost knocking out my front teeth, or the time I decided to throw cotton balls in a candle flame only to have fireballs fire back at my face, or when I stuck a paperclip into an electric socket. This is just proof that kids will literally copy anything they see an adult do. I wanted to be like my Dad, who was always fixing things in the walls. At least my parents got me my own little plastic toolkit after that incident.

I used to want to be a brain surgeon. That is, until I saw the movie “Selena” and Jennifer Lopez convinced me enough to switch career goals and become a fashion designer. I got as far as sketching a few designs and making outfits for my Barbies. Today, I’m neither a fashion designer or a brain surgeon.

We don’t realize the danger of small animals as children. My Dad almost had a heart attack when I picked up a water moccasin with my bare hands in a Florida spring. I loved snakes, but the terror on his face has since made me skeptical of all.

We also don’t realize how we endanger small animals. My brothers and I would feed our cat, Jello, so many french fries from McDonalds. This goes to prove that no one can resist a McDonald’s fry.

When I used to believe in God, I’d pray every single night. I had my routine prayers: “Our Father”, “My Guardian Angel”, and “Hail Mary”. Then I would do my own personal prayer by wishing blessings on my family (sometimes excluding Richie, but then tacking him back at the end because “I’m sure he didn’t mean it”), asking for something like Jesus was Santa Claus, and then finally ending it with “and I will love you forever and ever. Amen.” The prayers stopped before high school.

Although I was maturing in some ways, I was still an idiot in many, many other ways. Like the time I thought I could melt a hard-boiled egg back to having a runny yolk. A couple minutes in the microwave would do. I still feel the complete confidence I had felt then. It had made total sense until the explosion happened. If my microwave were a time machine, then yes, maybe it would have worked.

Remember when you’d camp out in your backyard? If I did it growing up in the city, I’m sure everyone has done it at some point. I shiver to my core to think that those shadows of bunnies outside the tents were probably just rats.

I was a fearful and superstitious child. I used to avoid stepping on cracks so I wouldn’t break my Mother’s back, and I’d also avoid sidewalk lines to not break my Father’s spine. Did I just make up that last one?

I remembering panicking in the Osco parking lot when my quarter machine toy was a Chinese finger trap that I got trapped in. I just stood there, crying, and teared this toy to pieces with all the force I could muster before it could kill me.

You know how some little girl’s whisper “he loves me”, “he loves me not” when they pick off flower petals? When I’d get dressed for school, I’d whisper “heaven” and then “hell” for each piece of clothing I’d put on. Whatever I finished with, that would determine where I’d end up when I died and would set the mood for the school day. Watching Stephen King movies as a child really does make an impression.

My parents had a friend whose nickname was “Evil”. I was terrified of him. He never did anything wrong to me, but do I need to repeat his nickname?

I remember watching my Mother put on makeup and with the utmost conviction, I said to her, “I’ll never wear makeup”. She looked at me with a smirk that read “Give it a few years”.

I used to practice my guitar in the closet so my parents or my brothers wouldn’t make fun of me.

What used to excite you as a child? One of my favorite thrills was when our basement used to flood due to leaves clogging up the drain outside the door.

One of my proudest moments was finding a way to pass unreadable notes to friends in grade school. I memorized a Native American alphabet I found in this set of encyclopedias we had, taught my friends this hieroglyphic form of text, and wah-lah- we had our secret language. To this day, I still know how to write it.

One of my least proudest moments was years later, getting 13 pages deep in Lord of the Rings, not having the patience to learn his language, and never picking up the book again. To think, if I had picked up LOTR in grade school, I could know Qenya or Sindarin right now.

As children we have limitless imagination, dying curiosity, and the patience to fulfill it. Even though we age, and lose bits over time, we are still the same person that child was. If you ever get lost looking for him or her, there is always a silly video to motivate you or it may just take glancing over your shoulder: