Think Six

I find myself exhibiting the little shrugs and giggles and grimaces my first-grade students demonstrate for me. It’s like (while teaching them to read and write and figure) I’m taking a class on how to act like a six year old. I’m a sponge. For better; for worse.

My “What if I…” ponderings have exponentially increased in both quantity and bizarrity. Like…

What if I stuck my tongue out at the bus driver and stomped down the steps to the sidewalk when I couldn’t get my dollar to go into the payment slot?

What if I jumped off a bench into the arms of an unsuspecting passing stranger?

What if I walked around with untied shoelaces all day and didn’t trip?

What if I laughed awkwardly loud at jokes the voices in my head were telling me?

What if I ate Doritos and Nutter Butters and Ho Ho’s for lunch?

These are questions I ask myself now when no one else is asking me questions or telling me answers. The possibilities are ENDLESS when you think six. Deliciously endless.