As I made my way up and down Main Street in Jeffersonville, pivoting back and forth to capture the St. Patrick’s Day parade festivities and the crowd gathered to enjoy the fun, I spotted something I’ve come to miss as the parent of an adult.  

Pure, unfiltered, uncontaminated joy. 

I saw it in the small faces lighting up as they spotted their heroes in the passing firetrucks and ambulances. 

I saw it in the little feet pushing off from the ground, propelling little bodies up in the air because one can’t possibly stand still in the face of so much fun. 

I saw it in the tiny hands plucking tubes of Smarties and lollipop sticks from the ground and stuffing them in their overflowing pockets. 

I heard it in the shouts of “candy, candy, candy!” from little voices exploding with excitement. 

When you’re little, you know exactly how being a grown up is going to go. 

You will begin your days with a sumptuous meal of M&Ms, washed down by the sugariest soda on the store shelves. Meals will be enjoyed on the couch in the living room where your feet will rest comfortably atop the coffee table. Should you ever have reason to sit at a traditional table, your elbows will rest firmly on the top. 

The word bedtime will be banned in your house, and anyone who suggests that you need to clean your room will be fired. 

Music will be loud, just the way music is supposed to be, and you will use your outside voice while you’re inside just because you can. You will make that face as many times as you’d like. It still won’t freeze that way. 

There will be no homework. 

You will have at least three dogs, one pony and a duck. They will all live comfortably together inside your home with you and your kids. 

When you’re little, you know exactly how being grown up is going to go. It will be so much better than what’s in front of you, you’re sure. 

You have yet to meet the evil troll FICA and see what he does to your hard-earned wages. 

You’ve haven’t yet learned phrases like “cost of living,” “student loans,” “out of network” and “electric bill.” 

You haven’t wasted 18 hours of your life repeating “representative” into telephones at increasingly frustrated volumes… yet. 

So, you still have a bedtime, and your mom keeps nagging you about cleaning your room. You probably don’t have a pony — or a duck — and your teacher just announced there will be homework over spring break. 

But your eyes still light up at the sight of a firetruck or an ambulance.

Your feet still send you soaring toward the sky because your body can’t possibly stay on the ground in the face of so much fun. 

And nothing seems quite as magical as a shower of lollipops and Smarties raining down around you. Maybe your mom will even let you slip a few at breakfast tomorrow if you ask her really nicely.