22 Days: New Kids on the Block

There was nothing I disliked more while growing up than being called, “Kid,” “Kiddo,” “Squirt” or some other variation of these supposed terms of endearment. But in every situation I found myself in, I was always the youngest and these nicknames were just a part of the package.

I had always done everything I could to appear more mature, even though on the inside I was insecure and clueless. As a freshman in high school I sat at the senior table and my best friend when I was a senior was already 25 (the age I am turning now).

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be older. Always trying to grow up faster (even going as far as experiencing some things way too early). Never acting my own age. Never wanting to be treated like a child.

Yet, as hard as I tried, I still always felt like a kid.

When I look around now, I realize that I am no longer the youngest. I am no longer the kid. In fact, the kids I used to lead in student small groups are graduating from high school. They are the interns and new people on staff. I am finding myself calling them, “kid.” Something I so terribly despised in my own young years.

They are who I was: and I’m about to be the age I always tried to be.

When did that happen?


    1. Crystal Renaud

      Thankfully, I will always be a “kid” to someone.

  1. mrs lasky

    …but to me, you are occasionally, ‘grammy’… 🙂


  2. I was always the youngest in school…which comes from skipping grades due to my overall academic brilliance.

    But now, I’m ooolllldddddd. And happy.

    Note that a lot of your friends are still older than you…even with changing friendships

  3. You are really having issues with this whole birthday thing!
    I used to have this drunk old lady client who came in once a week to get her hair done. Crazy Sharron. She smoked probably 3 packs a day and drank a lot of whiskey. She had just got out of a full body cast when she came to see me. (She didn’t drink one day and fell down a flight of stairs) She dressed like Peg Bundy and had hair as big as my body when I was done with her. Here’s the deal every week she would say to me with her raspy voice “Kid! I gotta tell you…”
    Her advice was never appropriate and she talked like a sailor. I just think of her and the word “kid” never comes out of my mouth!

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