Resignation as an Adult

I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult:

I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an
8-year old again.

I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four-star restaurant.

I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make ripples with rocks.

I want to think M&Ms are better than money because you can eat them.

I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my
friends on a hot summer's day.

I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew
were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that
didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and
you didn't care.

All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of
all the things that should make you worried or upset.

I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.

I want to believe that anything is possible.

I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly
excited by the little things again.

I want to live simple again.

I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of
paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month
than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and
loss of loved ones.

I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth,
justice, peace, dreams, the imagination, mankind, and making angels
in the snow.

So, here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my
401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.

And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me
first, cause "Tag! You're it!"