When my Mum would do those cake mixes that would come in a box (you know the ones with the separate batter and icing bags and you had to add so many ingredients to them that you could have made a cake from scratch) I got to lick the bowl.
I always vowed that when **I was a grown up **I would mix up one of those boxes and eat the entire contents of raw cake batter, followed up with a generous dessert of not set icing.
I feel kind of sick typing that, but not without a certain longing to give it a go.
So what haven’t you gotten around to doing now you’re all grown up?
Wear a real angel costume, with real wings. When I was an adult, I’d be able to afford something better then a dingy pair of wings made from aluminium foil over a bent clotheshanger.
I’d be rich enough to buy a real angel costume now. But when is the last time you saw an adult dressed up as an angel without looking ridiculous?
Same with a fairy costume, or a mermaids costume like the one Daryl Hannah wore in the movie “Splash”.
When my brother went to Uni he asked me for a cake recipe just so as he could do this. He seemed surprised that he felt sick less than half way down the bowl
10-meter springboard dive or, if I’m feeling really brave, the 30-meter platform.
Trampolining. The real thing, not the crappy 3-foot-diameter “exercise” trampoline thingies that sold back in the '80’s.
Dressing up as Death, A.K.A. The Grim Reaper, on Halloween. When I was a kid, I was probably put off by the implied gender (male) and height requirements (the taller and gaunter, the better). There were always other things to be. Plus, there was the whole scythe element. For a trick-or-treating kid, that could be an inconvenient and even dangerous encumbrance, and I was a real gung-ho candy scavenger, running myself ragged all over the neighborhood.
Now that I’m an adult, I could go all out as what Monty Python called “Mr. Reaper,” except that with my short & squat physique, I’m afraid I’d make a rather disappointing Death. And there’s still the scythe element to figure out. If I’m ever going to go to the trouble of assembling a really good costume (methinks that verisimilitude requires lots of swaths of tattered, tea-stained and ink-stained cheesecloth), I’m not going to settle for some rinky-dink, undersized, plastic scythe suitable only for “reaping” kindergarteners and garden gnomes. No, I’m going to have to rig something decent looking from stuff I can get at Home Depot…
[ol]
[li]Do anything I want, and not do anything I didn’t want to do. Alas. I spent most days doing things I don’t want to do.[/li][li]Never go to bed, but stay up all night and do what grownups do. Ahem. No. With the new medicine I’m on, I’m asleep by 10, and definitely not doing “what grownups do.”[/li][li]Be an archaeologist and excavate in the Valley of the Kings.[/li][li]Be a psychiatrist.[/li][li]Have a dozen kids. Infertility and all that means we have no kids. Of course, this fact does mean that I kept my promise about what I wouldn’t say to my kids: “Because I said so.” [/li][/ol]
Own all kinds of cool costumes. (flight suits, real and sci fi. Suit of armor, etc) Not only that but have friends who’d also want to play make-believe in that sort of full-on way that Renfaires do only sci-fi, and y’know, not creepily obsessive.
Fly high-performance aircraft (at least I’ve got solo hours in prop planes and sailplanes)
Build a totally awesome video game room/board game room/workshop in my house (still might pull this one off).
