What’s the number-one thing I miss about being a kid? It’s the blissful innocence, believing that anything’s possible, including little rabbits that come to visit and hide candies and eggs around the house, fat jolly men coming down chimneys with bags of toys, magical fairies fluttering into my room to collect lost teeth and leaving money tucked under my sleepy head, and the Sandman, who would sprinkle fantastical sand over me so that I only have good dreams.

Now I’m not a fan of rabbits, which I consider to be more rodent-like than anything else… the idea of a fat man coming down my chimney is a frightening thought that makes me want to sleep with the portable phone perched next to my bed… I guess I would still love it if some fairy would come and leave me money but if it were at the expense of my teeth, I’d probably pass… and sand is quite possibly the most annoying God-made creation, finding its way into every nook and cranny, and I would probably go into cardiac arrest if I had sand in my bed.


I miss make-believe. I think that’s why I absolutely adore the times I get to spend playing with my 5-year-old niece. She has this incredibly imaginative mind and we play in worlds where animals talk and people have pink and purple skin and the most difficult challenge any character faces is learning how to fly. I want babies like my dolls who do nothing but sit quietly and smile. I want to live in a fort made of quilts and work as a veterinarian as well as a book writer and a high-fashion model… all in one afternoon. I want a collection of pinky-orange $100 bills that really are real money and Kaboodles boxes filled with actual gemstone jewelry.

I want to be blissfully naive… I want to live in fantasy and reality.

And you know what they call a grown-up who does that? NUTS!