I hope you're all living wonderful adult lives, but just in case you want to evaluate those circumstances and share some interesting ideas with us, I invite you to check out this contest HERE :)

I would like to invite @fredaig, @elecris, and @rubilu123 to participate :)

My life as a child revolved around stories. Not much changed as time went on, as I grew up and became a literature teacher. Like the children in Dr. Seuss' The Cat in the Hat (1957), I spent my days measuring what I could and could not do based on what my parents instructed. I did have a lot of fun, though I wonder if I really want to go back to those days.

About ten years ago, I was reading stories to a group of children, including my 5-year-old nephew, who surprised me with the crudeness of his statement; the anecdote I am about to tell you has to do with one of my favorite stories in Children’s Lit: Margaret Wild’s Fox (2000). After hurting her wing and losing her ability to fly, the little Magpie in abandons her faithful friend Dog and leaves with Fox, who has promised her that on his back she will travel as fast as if she were flying, a much better offer than that of Dog. We must know that Dog is one-eyed and relies on his friend Magpie to see better; Magpie, in turn, can travel on Dog's back and so they complemented each other. The harmony lasts until Fox appears and towards the end of the story we can see how Fox has abandoned Magpie in the red and arid Australian desert, with which we suppose certain death befalls her, or with which we suppose that Dog goes in search of her and rescues her, just as good and faithful friends like him do.

When I asked him what they thought would happen next, my nephew said aloud and clear:

Dog should not go after Magpie because she has betrayed him; now she will die in the desert for her betrayal. She brought it on herself.

The older children were the most compassionate, hoping that Dog would save Magpie and forgive her. I wonder if we remember being creatures with such severe criteria when we were five.

We tend to romanticize the whole idea of childhood and its instances once too often. Children can be cruel. Children can surprise us big time, and more if we have romantic ideas on what being a child means. In my country, you are child until you turn 12. Long before I was 12, maybe even 10 years old, I remember riding my bike 3 blocks to the store, buying two chickens, washing them, cutting them up, and cooking them; they were ready for lunchtime. Then I would take a shower and get dressed to go to school. There was nothing special about it; learning and helping the family was normal for us, it was part of being a child: learning to be an adult.

There are occasional cynic assertions on childhood that may offend some, but which may shed some light on our inefficacy to handle infancy; e.g. George Carlin’s “Your Children are Overrated”, where the comedian leaves us speechless with statements like this one:

the kid who swallows too many marbles doesn't grow up to have kids of his own. Simple stuff. Nature knows best!

Perception is an issue when it comes to childhood. So true. How many of us would like to go back to younger days because they were so much better. Or how many of us go through childhood wanting to turn adults the next day so our luck is not tied to adults’ decisions and caprice. The scenario becomes gloomier if you examine the lives of so many children who are victims of abuse and/or abandonment.

According to Venezuelan Organic Law for the Protection of the Child and the Adolescent, any citizen is considered a child until they turn 12. When they turn twelve, they become adolescents, still minors but no longer children. Even though the law is specific, the truth is that childhood continues to be subject to perception; for example, you can listen to mothers call their daughter or son a kid, but when you meet “the kid,” you realize they’re 18, which is legally the beginning of adulthood over here.

It often happens that long after we turn 12, our parents will continue to treat us as children. At their own discretion, they will treat us as adults and demand more and more responsibility from us. This only makes adolescence, well, more adolescent! The truth is that despite the reflections rooted in reality and in theory, childhood is also a time of magic; and if it was not so for you, it is unfortunate.

I had a vivid imagination, which has disadvantages as well. I remember, for example, I was scared to death during a party with clowns. What a horrid experience! And I don't know what I saw on my birthcake because I don't remember, but look at that face!

Childhood is as magical as thought can be. Our innocence and natural right to fantasy allow us to dream when we are little, and so we hope that our dreams will come true some day. As an adult, one can go back to those days of imaginations and relive the ones one loved the most; but we’re certainly selective and won’t go back to those which can hurt us—at least not if we can help it.

I certainly don't want to go back to being a kid, as I'm always living my favorite moment, but if I were to go back to childhood, it would most likely be for these 3 reasons:

• Parents’ super power of protecting us their children against any harm
• Believing in the possibility of going into the page of a book and become part of a story
• Christmas morning

I was lucky to have loving parents. They were severe at times, but precisely because of that, I respected them and believed in their authority to control not only me but also anyone who wanted to make anything bad to my siblings or me. This is definitely one the things I miss the most of being a kid.

As an adult, it is impossible to escape reality; some people find ways to evade it, but I think we all understand that this is not healthy. Sometimes, though, how nice it would be to be able to hide in the page of a story, even for a few hours, and dream. I remember with much pleasure the first time I watched Petersen’s The Neverending Story (1984). I was convinced there should be a way to go into a book and become a new character in the story, or perhaps, take the place of an existing one. I was also disappointed that they never bought me a copy of Ende’s book. All in all, childhood’s memories have that sweet and sour taste, but let me tell you, every time I listen to Limahl’s song, a very special feeling takes over me and it’s one deeper and more complex than nostalgia alone.

In addition to the dream, another experience that I strongly associate with childhood is Christmas. Oh my, and was there anything better than Christmas morning? One of the advantages of being a child is that you have no moral issues regarding transculturation, let alone the possibility to have Santa Claus and Baby Jesus meet in the living room on Christmas Eve. The more the merrier, right? More toys!

The mind of children is elastic and fertile. We lose plenty of both as we grow up. The children that we once were still live within us. It might be fun if someday we could find them and invite them to play, even if it is a rainy day, when we turn particularly nostalgic. Perhaps The Cat in the Hat will knock at our door and turn our day into a magical one.