Being at home with my lil' bro (he's the ripe old age of 5) always reminds me of my former precocious tendencies. One of my mother's favorite stories of me when I was little was the time I stopped a woman in the stairwell of the YMCA pool and asked her, with genuine curiosity, why she was so fat. My brother isn't much better. Listening to him rant about his undying love for crayola products and his girlfriend (yes, he's 5 and has more game than I do) does annoy me sometimes, but it also makes me jealous. At what point did we lose our abilities to know exactly what we want, when we want, and not care the slightest about what anyone thinks?
In the past couple of days, we've built a snowman, watched Spongebob (clearly made for adults), Arthur (remember when he could spell 'aardvark'? that's like me spelling 'human'!), Wishbone (was an excellent Faust) and some other shows in my vaguely distant memory, eaten brownies and walked to the bus stop on thickly iced roads in the freezing cold. Somehow these mundane activities have been more meaningful than anything I've done all semester. I also realized that I learned a helluva lot of literature from a talking terrier and go to school with a bunch of Muffys, whom I didn't know existed prior to college and gossip girl.
Happy holidays and SLOW THE EFF DOWN. Now for some vintage sesame street, in which they actually used to use big words:
The best part is at 1:49