six...

The inner child is one's original self that revels in play; also called child within. I have one and it bubbles to the surface quite a bit.

The other night I was at my fiance's house. I don't remember many of the specifics, but she had her huge cup of water on her night stand table, ready for the long, thirsty night ahead. She always has a huge cup of water nearby. When I say huge cup, I really mean it. Conjure up in your mind a 32 oz. fountain drink at your local convenience store. We're talking just a bit bigger than that. Now, if you look at Nicole you'll see that she's not a very big girl. Pretty short, and pretty skinny. I often wonder how her body can process the large amount of liquid that she often drinks.

But she really can drink.

Anyway, it seems like she was on the floor and I walked around her. I may have had my eyes half closed and I kind of stumbled along, really tired. It was late. But I got to her night stand and picked up her cup of water and downed it all. Just like that. She just kind of watched me and I finished it off. Then I made a smacking sound, very satisfied, and put the empty cup back where it had come from.

I think I probably looked at her, eyebrows raised, with a look on my face that said "What do you think about that?" She simply stated, "It's like living with a six year old."

Stinging, but in a way, exactly what I was looking for. I get a kick out of doing things just to get a reaction out of people. I think it's interesting to think up situations in my head that would be highly amusing, and occasionally act on one of them. But when I do that, my inner child just comes blazing out and makes an ass of me. I deal with it.

Yesterday evening I showered after my rather painful workout (maybe it was the 1/2 pound soft taco from earlier that made it so tough) and shortly thereafter lied down to rest for a bit. Apparently my hair was not perfectly placed on the pillow, and as a result my normally rebellious rooster-tail became an amazing fountain of hair. Not a problem. I didn't have anything fancy to do last night.

I woke up this morning late, and I had to shave, so I didn't get in the shower. I can usually go about 3 days without shaving before I start looking like a total dirt-bag. I got my hair a little wet in the sink to push down the rooster-tail, and off I went. About the time I got to Target to meet Nikki, I noticed in the rearview mirror that my rooster-tail had in fact not been calmed at all by the generous application of water. It was back with a vengeance. If it hadn't been for Nicole's help in applying some high-quality pomade to my hair during our drive to work, it would have been a very long day.

It really makes me feel self-conscious. I almost always had very short hair as a child, and a significant factor in that decision was the fact that my rooster-tail is uncontrollable unless my hair is well over an inch long. It's so hard.

It's like living with a six year old.