Kids Are All The Same

[spanishbubbles]

So I went shopping with my Dad today to Ikea, looking for stuff for the new flat in Switzerland. I wanted to pick my day bed, but other than that I was sort of along for the ride. At one point, in the office section, my Dad whipped out his computer and began doing something important on it. I sat down at one of the desks, you know, with the fake computer, a keyboard with no letters written on it and an old moniter with a picture of the Ikea homepage glued onto it. At first I amused myself by typing things on the fake keyboard. I'm not much of a typist, so it really was a little bit of interest, remembering where the keys were and such. This quickly degenerated into pretending that I could type really, really fast and just hitting a lot of buttons rapidly and enjoying the clicking sounds. The best part came, however, when I looked over at the desh and fake computer just up from mine and noticed a much younger child doing the exact same thing. He was much better at it than I was, though, he clearly could type about a *zillion* words per minute, whereas I'm sure that I wasn't doing much over a billion.

At any rate, it made me smile to know that I am still a kid at heart. I know that I act immature all around, but I think that it's a special kind of immature when it doesn't involve any jokes about, oh, say, boobies. I'm glad that that's still in me.

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving all!