I wanna pour grape juice on my head in cahoots with my good friend because I’m hot from playing in the back yard and not think twice about doing it. And then I wanna wonder what the heck is wrong with my OCD mother who demands I strip down so she can spray everything down with stain remover and toss it in the washing machine before the stains set.
I wanna wear four sparkly headbands to school and not think that is in the least bit outside the norm of usual hair accessorizing.
I wanna passionately believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and the Chupacobbler and wonder what is wrong with my parents when they keep insisting that it’s Chupacubra. Sheesh. Grown ups. What do they know?
I wanna run through the green grass with my friends, twirl on the swings at the playground until I am dizzy, and shout Ready Or Not Here I Come at the top of my lungs.
I wanna wear brown leggings adorned with fuchsia polka dots with a floral butterfly halter top and make a fashion statement that screams, “I rock!”
I wanna wear sparkly Barbie shoes with pink rhinestone flowers on my toes and temporary butterfly tattoos on my forearm and learn to play jacks for the first time sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floors.
I wanna get excited about a new box of PopTarts and not worry about the calories from a second one.
I wanna learn to play checkers with my grandma and my little sister and take it as seriously as a million dollar hand of Texas Hold ‘Em.
I wanna curl up in bed with a menagerie of my 95 favorite stuffed animals, pull my floral sheets snug up to my chin, and breathe deep the peacefulness of bedtime and have not a care in the world.
I wanna create a crayon self-portrait of myself as a super hero.
I wanna tilt my head back to the cool evening sky, squeeze my eyes shut, and wish on a shooting star, even though my mother says it is just an airplane.
I wanna consider deep dish pepperoni pizza with a Shirley Temple on ice in a plastic cup and a curvy straw an exotic meal out.
OK just kidding on that last one. Mama loves her wine.
But I still think 6 is a pretty great age, even though she reminds me every day that she’s almost 7.