One might wonder what exactly changes when growing up — from first words and first steps to collecting seashells to putting coins in a piggy bank to reading books to going to work to collecting paychecks to putting coins in a bigger piggy bank, and so on. We work hard so that we can have the opportunity to play more; we play when we should work, we work when we should play. And somewhere along the line, we cross that invisible threshold where we become “grown-ups”.
We wander from day to day, passing Go and collecting our $200. But unlike Monopoly, there’s no obvious goal to work towards — and so we continue, collecting money and friends and experiences and more. Perhaps a sufficiently large collection, built up over the years, separates the “adult” from the “child”. Or maybe not, since the act of building a collection seems much the same, whether it be of seashells or dollars.
In a child’s eyes, even the simplest schemes have infinite potential limited only by imagination. And of course, the cleverer the description, the greater the expected reward. Adulthood brings with it cynicism, pushing away that childhood frivolity in favor of the harshness of reality. Still, it’s often nice to look back and to let the whimsical thoughts of yesteryear take hold. After all, why not have your cake and eat it too?