I just purchased a lunch box on Amazon. Either I'm going through an existential crisis and am nostalgic for my kindergarten years or this is merely an extension of my alter ego: The part of me that's still a child. All of us still hold remnants of our younger years near and dear to us. I see it in the way my eighty year old grandfather eyes his ice cream. The way he scoops it from the bowl and into his mouth with such eagerness. I presume it's the same way he looked at ice cream or rather, g'lida, on the streets of Jerusalem when he was his youngest grandchild's age. I see it in grown women. The way they view the novelty of a new book like it'll become their favorite bed time story. I see it in grown men. Their childish ways live on through the habits they never rid of when they were kids. I see my childish ways reflected in the clothing I wear:
Baby doll dresses. Big scrunchies. Ruffled socks. Overalls x10000. My PJ onesie. Peter pan collars. Need I say more?