Gumboots. Crayons. Jigsaws. Monkey bars. Vegemite sandwiches. Sunhats. Other kids with reams of snot and saliva escaping from their facial crevices. Having to go wherever your parents went. Being yelled at for not being able to reach the taps. Being smacked with a wooden spoon by a bitch of a woman and feeling powerless to run away. Getting in huge trouble for calling said woman a bitch, with only a vague notion of its meaning. Being told, after a clumsy attempt at riding a bike, that "if you can't do it properly, then don't do it at all".
Who would miss this? Why do people seem to pine for their childhood? As beautifully nostalgic as it sounds, childhood was not a time when "life's biggest problem was choosing which colour crayon". It wasn't carefree, or uncomplicated. It sucked. I hated it. I wanted out. And I can't have been the only one who thought that.
Surely those who paint childhood as idyllic are looking at the past with rose-coloured glasses. Amazingly enough, children can and do have problems, and in my experience at least; life is far better now. I may have more responsibility now, but I can also escape if I want to. I have the means to extricate myself from most situations should the need arise, which was a luxury I craved as a child. I can make my own decisions without having other people override them with their own, I have my own money which I can spend how I choose to, I can more or less do what I want. Who would ever want to go back to a life completely out of their control? Having others make your decisions for you is only Arcadian as long as the decisions are the right ones.
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