As we are soaring (or uncomfortably flailing) through our twenties, one could be forgiven for missing the comforts of being a child. When you move out of home for the first time, living off cheap wine and scrambled eggs, coming home to Mum’s famous Sheppard’s pie is like a night out on some A grade Columbian cocaine. That shit is just so good.
Most of us are at a point where we’re starting to take that extra step off the ledge, falling four flights downwards into a life of taxes and expensive doctor bills that never used to exist in our weekly budget.
It's okay if you need to have a little cry. It's such a rude shock when you first realise that it's no longer someone else's job to make sure you eat your veggies and that you don't walk in front of oncoming traffic, it's all on you now. So while you take a moment to recover from the shock, let's take a trip down memory lane and think about the special treatment that we used to receive.
Getting carried from the car because you were ‘sleeping'
It’s a universal fact that we all used to fake being asleep in the back seat of the car after our parents took us to some boring dinner with their mates from university.
I mean, you’re eight for Christ's sake and you've just endured four hours of idle adult conversation while you scribbled in your colouring book in the corner, secretly hating on your parents for making you miss an episode of Neighbours for ‘this’. The least they can do is give you a little out-of-the-car-and-into-warm-bed carry action.
This was one of the biggest treats you could receive and turning into a tween was an extremely devastating moment because you started to become weird and gangly, like a gazelle, and carrying you from the car was no longer a feasible option.
This is when you were gifted with a Discman and instead of falling asleep in the back of the car, you’d moodily stare out of the window while you listen to your So Fresh Hits of Autumn 2004 album on repeat (skipping any songs that weren’t Hilary Duff’s ‘Come Clean’ - obviously).
Wiping your bum after you did a poo
“I’M FIIIIIIINNNIIIISHHED,” you'd call out and then immediately dangle your hands at your ankles waiting for Mum or Dad to immediately stop whatever else they were doing to come and attend to your shitty bum. You’d huff and puff and become indignant if it took them more than 30 seconds to arrive, “Man, I’ve been sitting here for like 3 minutes with shit in my bum, sort your priorities out. That’s just not an acceptable time frame to leave your own child with a shitty bum.”
Really, you were probably old enough to start doing this yourself, but there was a certain feeling of luxury having someone else wipe your bum and a very strong sense of comfort knowing that it was most definitely clean (you could never be quite sure when you went in solo).
Picking you up from parties
Life was perfect when you could hype yourself up on sherbet and lolly teeth knowing full and well that Mum or Dad would be there soon to save you from yourself and take you home. You were carefree.
You’d jump on the trampoline, run circles around the backyard and you might even go as far as having a little sugar induced vomit on the Wilson's new lounge room carpet because fuck it, you’re only six once!
These days, if you choose to head out of the comforts of home to fuck yourself up on substances you can’t really expect your parents to be there at 3 am when things start to unravel.
“Dad, I’m so fucked up. Can you pick me up from the club now please?!” It would be nice but honestly, it’s your job to sort your shit out; find your phone and order an Uber home.
Paid for everything
Being a minor really was super fucking easy, especially on your finances. If I had one wish, it would be to go back to my seven-year-old self, who was sobbing and heaving into her bedroom floor because the tooth fairy only left her $2 instead of the usual $4, and I would tell her to, “cut this shit out. One day you’ll have to pay for someone to stick a long stick up your vagina and that’s when you’ll realise the real perils of life.”
Having your life fully funded was truly amazing. Food, accommodation, social activities, clothing, it was all taken care of and while you know that your parents are always there to help if you really need some financial assistance, it really makes you feel like a dick having to ask them for money; you should really just stop buying so much weed, you fool.
Tucked you into bed
Seriously, when and why did this stop? There must have been a definitive day when you were lying in bed waiting for someone to come in and tickle your back, sing you a song, pull the covers up and turn out the light and they just never turned up. They just sat out in the lounge room downing a bottle of red, watching Enough Rope with Andrew Denton while you were awake in bed wondering if this is what death felt like.
Bring back the tuck in I say, I’m all about it. Perhaps your housemates would consider tucking you in? Or maybe you could steal yourself a slice on Tinder who would rather pat your tummy and fluff your pillow instead of ejaculating all over your nice clean sheets. They stay there warming the bed until you fall asleep and then quietly let themselves out, only to return the next night to do it all over again. That's my type of booty call.
Kate Neilson is a list maker and a booty shaker and she loves to eat her toast in bed. She is the creator of Twenty Something Humans. You can lurk her @katiepotatierose.