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When I was on holiday last week, I was sat eating in the dining room of the hotel. At a table nearby, a little girl who can’t have been older than 3 or 4, was sat waiting for her parents to come back to the table with food. She had a teddy bear on the table and one of the waitresses came up and started playing with the teddy bear to try and make her laugh. Watching this made me feel quite sad.
I wish I could return to that age, where you don’t really think about things. You don’t know how horrible and complex the world can be. It’s acceptable to carry a cuddly toy around with you and to cling to people in times of fear and upset, because you’re only little. You depend on your parents and life is easy. You don’t get overly worried about your health; there are no exams to prepare for; you don’t understand what death and disease really are so you’re spared the most intense feelings of grief. You’re fearless and will snatch almost any opportunity placed in front of you without thinking. You can sit in your own little world and be as eccentric as you like and have a vivid imagination without people thinking you’re weird. You love unconditionally. No-one’s telling you to become more independent, learn to cook, find a partner, get a job, go to university, whatever - life is simple.
God, I wish I was 3 years old again.