Just a Kid in a Really Big Body

The following is a fragment of a memory imparted to me by The Wife recently which, try as I may, I can’t quite think of a proper introduction for, but which involves a kid coming to the frightening realization that adults — at least the people upstairs — are really just kids in really big bodies.

As she came back home from some last minute Christmas shopping, The Wife bumped into the 8 year old girl living in the apartment below ours. When the girl noticed the package my wife was carrying — a boxed set of the video game Dance Dance Revolution Extreme — she said (rather loudly, from what I’m told), “Cool! DDR! Who’s getting that?!”

“My 27 year old husband,” The Wife answered.

The girl’s expression went flat, and she looked at The Wife like she’d suddenly spawned a second head.

2 thoughts on “Just a Kid in a Really Big Body

  1. I often have memories of when I was little that involved the adults in my life. I remember thinking how old they seemed, even my former step-mom, who was just 13 years older than I (which wasn’t an issue when I was 4 but got weird as I became a teenager. She was 17 and my dad 30 when they married). Even when I was 17 and my mom was turning 40, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her and that the best of her years was behind her. LOL!! But cripes! I’ll be 40 in eleven more years and I feel, in some ways, my life is yet to begin. Thank goodness Hannah does her part to remind me that “29 is pretty young to have 3 kids.” Bless that child!

  2. “I’ll be 40 in eleven more years and I feel, in some ways, my life is yet to begin…29 is pretty young to have 3 kids.”

    1) At 27, I look back in amazement at the fact that my mom had her fourth (and final) kid by the time she was 25. With The Wife about to turn the big three-oh, we can’t help but be perplexed at our situation. The biological clock in our home isn’t so much a clock as a gong which goes off from time to time, and when it does all we can do is sit across the table and stare at each other in silence.

    2) As far as life begining is concerned, I know what you mean. The last thing I want (quite literally) is to be laying on my death bed thinking to myself “Dear God… I’m dying, yet only now do I realize that I never truly lived.”

Share your thoughts