Well, then, dear reader. I made good my promise to reclaim a bit of my childhood magic and I had a tea party. More specifically, I had a rather bohemian tea party with Miss Lucy. We had a tea pot with a fruit motif on it, the milk and sugar dish from my own 50s era tea set, the delicate and beautiful cups from Miss Lucy’s set, and blue bowls for the soup. Yes, we had soup with our tea.
It was a blast; we drank tea with our pinkies out while talking about music and acted very civilized. For about five minutes that is. Then we devolved. Conversation turned from music to men and we began to call the soup pornographic.
Still, it was all good fun. And now I am reliving more of the childhood innocence that I called magical last week.
I am currently sitting curled up in my chair, in my pajamas, eating cookie dough and I’m watching Jeremy Clarkson drive some Royal Marines into a beach assault in a Ford Fiesta. I know, it doesn’t make much sense, but it doesn’t have to. This, what I’m doing, is the grown-up equivalent of watching Saturday morning cartoons.
And that’s exactly what I wanted.
It’s jolly hard to find something innocent and child-like to do that is also interesting to you when you’re 25. So then, my answer was to upgrade. Playing dress up and having a tea party with stuffed animals has given way to talking about the attractiveness of Shemar Moore’s abs with your best friend while drinking tea from a mismatched set.
It’s not enough to simply act out what you thought was magical in childhood. You have to adapt it to fit who you are now; so long as you feel that childlike thrill, does it really matter what form it takes?
If it ever clears up and the ground again is firm beneath my feet, I may go into the woods and find my cache of dragon eggs. And although I am a bit beyond frolicking, I may just sit and imagine what it would be like to have a host of dragons at my beck and call; you know, for world domination.