When do you have to stop being a kid

I love kids.  All ages.  They make me very happy.  I am sorry that my grandkids are so far away, and I don't see them enough.  My two remaining ones are now 16 and soon to be 14 years old.  Everett would also have been soon to be 14.  They are now busy with school, sports, and even a girlfriend.  But not that long ago, when I would show up for a visit, playing with the grandkids was a primary focus of my trip.  Well, and also spending time with daughters and significant others.  

From the time the kids could walk, they played any sport that involved a ball, and also made up games, as I mentioned previously.  It began first with Chase.  We'd head to a field with a football, and he'd kick it, and we'd play catch.  As Coen and Everett got a bit bigger, sports typically moved to Laura and Megan's back yard.  When I was there, we'd either be in the yard playing football, or soccer, and occasionally basketball, catch with a baseball, whiffle ball, or basketball.  Football with the four of us usually had Chase against Coen, Everett and me.  Everett often was quarterback as he couldn't really run pass patterns.  The best was having him call Coen and me into a huddle for one of his creative plays that had us going out for a pass and he'd try and get the ball to us.  We did all combinations of teams and plays.  Things would usually last about 15 minutes before someone got pissed off and ended up on the sidelines pouting or crying due to some grave injustice on the field.  I could usually coax them back for more plays, but not for long. I think it is the dynamics of having three kids playing.  One always seems to be odd man out.  The all time funniest was while Everett was running a play as quarterback, he went down and ended up hurt and crying.  To me it didn't appear to be anything serious, as the ground was soft, and there was no blood.  We took him inside to his mom and the rest of the womenfolk for comfort and to mend any owies.  They asked me what happened and where Everett was hurt.  I said I think he's fine, except his ego was hurt.  Everett, through his sniffles, looked at Sarah and said, "Mom, is my ego in my foot, because that's what hurts."

Back to Everett's made up game of "Papa you're a robot."  Chase was too old for that, it was just Coen, Everett and I.  So, there was no crying and no having someone getting mad and sitting out.  It was just silliness and running through the house.  The only problem was for me trying to stop, as they would never want to quit.  A few years later,  I don't know how old Everett and Coen were, maybe about 8, things changed.  I hadn't been in town to see them for several months.  I showed up and they were all older, bigger, and a little more mature.  But as soon as I was with them again, it seemed like we could all pick up right where we left off last time I was in town.  There was a moment when Everett, Coen and I were in the same room goofing around.  Everett got that look in his eyes, and turned to me, starting to say, "Papa You're a . . .", and he stopped himself.  He looked at me quizzically, and a bit embarrassed, and said, "Can we still do that?" He had this realization that he was not a little kid anymore, and that he may have crossed some threshold where we could no longer play what people would see as some little kid's game.  I was taken aback, but knew all too well what he was saying.  I don't recall how I responded.  Probably said, sure we can still play.  But, it wasn't the same, and that was the end of that game.  

I can very much relate to Everett's question.  I've been there.  I was that goofy kid when I was young.  It was my release.  As kids, we were a bit afraid of my dad.  At the dinner table with all the family, we were usually dead quiet.  My dad was always the first to finish, and he left the table.  Then, like a switch was flipped, we'd all start talking and carrying on as kids.  We weren't in fear of getting beaten or anything like that.  It was just a stifling atmosphere.  So, when it was just us kids, I'd let loose and be goofy boy, trying to make my siblings laugh.  The zanier I could be, the more laughter ensued.  It was an outlet for all that pent up not being able be a kid, like my grandkids.  

So, when do you have to stop being a kid.  I know everyone has to grow up.  You go to school, get a job, get married, raise a family, and deal with all the things  you face as an adult.  But do you have to give up zaniness, laughing uncontrollably until you have tears running down your face, spinning in circles until you can’t stand up. And those summer nights when you’re out until dark running with the neighborhood kids and feeling that life could never be any happier than at that moment.

We all know answers to these questions.  And it’s not as if adults never have fun or laugh or do silly things. It’s just different. Maybe that’s where grandkids come into play. Or, if not grandkids, any kids. To be with little kids and do something that cracks them up so they are laughing, it’s impossible not to get tied up in the same fun and laughter. To challenge Chase or Coen to a foot race and kick off my shoes to run barefoot as fast as I can through the green grass, can transport me right back to that free exultant feeling of doing the same as a kid. I used to occasionally win, but no more. But that won’t stop me from running until I’m no longer able. 

Well, that’s my answer. I don’t ever have to stop being a kid as long as I can continue to be around kids. I just need a never ending supply and many more fun encounters with them all.