One night during fall break, exhausted after a long day of staring at a screen and trying to somehow magically make information stick in my brain, I crawled into my bed, thinking "It's movie time." The movie I chose, without hesitation, was Matilda. 

My campers this past summer often told me that the reason I had no authority over them was because I was one of them. I giggled like them, made up dances with them, painted my nails with them, dressed up crazy like them, and sang my heart out with them. As frustrating as their occasional disobedience was, they were right. Maybe it is a result of having such younger siblings and being constantly surrounded by playdough and Nerf guns, but I am, at the core of my being, such a kid. 

The eternal child in me really has always really struggled with being told I am "too old" for things. My cousin ripped the heads off of my Barbies when I was ten because they were "for babies." (I cried, and immediately tried to reattach them when she left of course). It starts slowly. First it’s the Barbies, then its no longer cool to go to Paint Your Paint with your grandma. Then you are a loser if you stay in on a Saturday night playing Clue. And before I knew it, I had "grown out" of Hannah Montana, High School Musical and all other beloved Disney programs. Gradually, things that brought me so much happiness were no longer considered in my appropriate age range. 

Young adulthood is overwhelming. Our worries have shifted from play dates and birthday parties to, "How am I going to pass this class?" and, further, "What am I going to do with the rest of my life?" We stress over credits towards our major, admission to grad school, our careers and all of these terrifying future unknowns. We are on the verge of entering the real world, which in turn makes us feel like our days of building snow forts are over. But does entering adulthood really mean that we have to kiss our carefree, goofy habits goodbye?

In my personal opinion, following strict social conventions of acceptable adult behavior doesn’t make you mature, it just makes you boring. When we limit ourselves to what we should do and should not do based on arbitrary age restrictions we are holding ourselves back from enjoying life to the fullest.

When One Direction comes on the radio, I scream like a tween, and pretend that Harry Styles is singing to me. I still trade off reading Junie B. Jones at "sleepovers" with my sister and hide under the covers with her when my dad comes in telling us to go to sleep. I still watch Matilda on at least a yearly basis. I still cringe when Bruce Bogtrotter eats the whole cake.

Whether we are 15 or 45 it's important to keep that sense of childlike disinhibition burning inside of us. I am a kid at heart because I believe that our kid selves are our best selves. Yes, I am an adult in the sense that I force myself to study until the wee hours of the morning and often stress over my future, but allowing myself to be a kid every once and a while keeps me sane, keeps me happy, and most important, it keeps adult life fun.