Today is the day to purposefully mess up your room.

I asked my Dad to expound a little on this brief essay he gave me, and he didn't, which is probably why I only got two responses. So my list today is that of people who wrote in reflecting on the last time they did a childhood activity without realizing it.

#1: Jake Swearington:

The last time I snuck out. I know this isn't so much a childhood activity as one of early adolescence, but for me sneaking out will always be something I really long for. Now that I can come and go from my apartment as I please, I think about the summer nights when I was fourteen and I'd slip out, making sure to avoid the seventh stair on the staircase 'cause it was extra loud was sure to wake my
light-sleeping mother, and meet up with my friends. Now a night out means perhaps a bar, perhaps sitting at a friend's house, but then everything had the delicious sense of transgression. I realized I actually merely waxed nostaligc about sneaking out, without actually describing the last time I snuck out. Truth is, I don't remember the exact last time, because last times are hard to nail down. Who knows when the last time they'll do something is?

#2: Meghan Haynes:

I recently went to a concert at an outdoor venue, and I had to walk past 18th St. beach to get to my seat. I smiled as I saw all the children -- messy, dirty yet joyous -- tramp in and out of the lake, onto the sand, then back in the water, lost in a whirl of beach bliss. I realized it had been many, many years, about 15, since I had gone swimming at a beach (and about 12 years since I spent any significant time, more than 2 hours or so, on a beach.)

Today, I find the thought of swimming at a beach, or at least any local/Midwestern beach, quite disgusting, and I've taken a real aversion to the beach in general. All types of things, random plants and weeds and whatnot, floating in the water; stepping over random garbage items that have floated or tumbled to the shoreline, like napkins, plastic wrappers or even beer cans! Ridiculous sand that never, EVER goes away -- I unfolded one of my beach chairs last week and it STILL had sand in it from July 4, 2004! And worse of all, dirty little kids in the water! Sweaty little munchkins, funky with sweat and reddened from sunburn, running around like maniacs, sand in every little crevice of their little bodies. And while I laugh at groups of wild, young boys, who never cease of energy, as they make intricate games up on the spot, and I'm all smiles and giggles at the muy adorable site of a little girl in a one-piece bathing suit -- with her cute, bulbous stomach protruding from a nearly stick-thin frame -- I cannot handle the beach anymore, and therefore, as an adult, I only admire from afar.