“All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.”

I remember when I was a middle schooler, the thought of eventually being unable to understand children, like every adult, would come.  I like to tell myself that I was mature for my age, and that I felt more connected to the adult world than the average middle school kid.  I had a fairly good grasp on the thought process and behaviors of elementary school kids; I was one just a few years ago at the time.  I told myself that I would become an adult that would understand kids really well because I would remember this thought of eventually not being able to do so.  In hindsight, I should have written down some of those thoughts that would have interfaced the kid world with the adult world, because over the span of four grueling high school years, I lost interest in remembering the past.  I actually don't care how children think, but maybe in a decade or two, when I have a family of my own (ha), I will chance upon this blog post about the college sophomore who remembered being an adolescent who remembered being a child, but could not remember being a child.

I leave for SLO with my mom in a few hours, I am not sure what I am doing writing a blog post.