...But Still A Little Like A Kid

As an afterthought to my last post about being an adult, I'd like to add that I believe myself to be more child-like than most kids, which may or may not be incredibly sad, being that I'm 25 years old (???). This weekend, for instance, Kevin and I spent Friday night roasting marshmallows in our back yard, and Saturday night with Jeff and Tracy on their trampoline. And I'm not talking about just jumping a little bit and then heading back inside - nope, it was a solid three-hour block of time spent doing flips (OK, somersaults in my case...), playing crack the egg and double bouncing each other. Keep in mind that Kevin's not a small man, so when it was my turn to be the "egg," my butt was flying through the air.
I'm also thinking that I must have had an incident of some sort on a trampoline when I was little, because I have a bizarre mental block on doing flips. So as entertaining as Kevin was with his graceful front flips (he busted it 11 consecutive times), I think I might have been even more so with going through the different stages of psyching myself up to do a flip, breathing evenly to control my thoughts and to envision myself landing in a manner that didn't force me to visit the emergency room, throwing my hands in front of me to get my momentum going, and then at the last minute freaking out and pulling out of it, opting to do a somersault instead. We must have gone through this 7 or 8 times throughout the night. When did I become such a pansy? The Courtney of old would have flipped first and worried about emergency room after I heard the snapping bone...
I guess this is where the "being an adult" comes in to play. Whereas before, my only worry was the actual snapping of the bone, I now have to worry about dealing with insurance companies and paying co-pays and deductibles, etc. Adulthood sucks the fun right out of being a kid...