There are a lot of five-year olds in this year world. However, I now refuse to trust them. Well, I cannot say I don’t trust them exactly. I just don’t trust any five-year old who can’t say the letter J.
Tonight I went out with my friends to Dairy Queen and then we ventured on over to the Imagination Station. Yes, I realize I am seventeen and soon to be eighteen. But, that does not mean that I still don’t like to play.
Nonetheless, we moved on over to the playground and began running around. Or rather my friends started running away from me since I was putting something in my car.
When I pushed the wooden gate open,I took a few steps in trying to find my friends who were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Before I could run after them, though, a five-year old latched on to me. I tried to be nice. I mean who can be mean to a five-year old?
As I started running, his little legs chased after me screaming, “I am going to eat you!” He ran around with me throughout the whole entire park, and he even grabbed on to my shirt and tried to pull me away. He was under the impression we were playing dinosaur.
I felt the urge to rawr at him, but I did not want to stoop down to his level or give me any ideas. I ran through the maze of towers and bridges and thought I lost him. My friends started swinging, and I thought everything was fine.
Everything was fine until I felt a tiny thud on my arm. I looked up to see this same little kid throwing mulch at me and pointing to the tire swing. I really didn’t want to push him, but I felt bad and let him climb in the swing.
My friends thought he was a brat, but once he started swinging and being pushed around in the swing, he was very sweet. He talked about all sorts of things and told me how old he was. I really couldn’t understand a lot of the words he spoke even if he was five.
He told me he was excited to start kindergarten class next fall. And when I asked what his name was he replied Yacob. The poor thing couldn’t say his Js. Hopefully next year, he will learn.
When I asked him how old he thought I was, he replied eight. By this time, my friends were doing swinging, and I left Jacob swaying in his little tire swing. I hated to leave him all by himself, but thankfully as I was exiting the gate I heard his mom call for him.
His little legs went into overdrive, and I watched him run to her. Some days, I wish I was a five-year old and enjoying the tire swing and playing dinosaur. In fact, I played a lot of dinosaur back in kindergarten. It feels like the other day I was five. Now, I am almost eighteen.
I felt like a kid tonight running around the playground chasing my friends. Hopefully, I will always be a kid at heart.