At my hairdresser’s yesterday, I picked up a Women’s Day magazine. Between pages of how to make the best chicken soup and Halloween cupcakes, I found an article on 10 ways to give yourself mini-spa treatments at home. Who could resist that?

The third tip said to do something you loved as a girl. According to this writer and the studies she read (or he read, perhaps), girls ages ten to twelve are most connected with things that make them happy. 

In light of this tidbit, I’ve decided to compare the 10-year-old me with the I’m-sorry-we-must-be-cutting-out-year-old me.

1. I choreographed and performed dances in the living room with my sister and friends. (And, yes, my parents own video-taped evidence.) Check. With the exception that I no longer perform to Debbie Gibson nor to an audience of my stuffed animals. (And, yes, filmed evidence may exist from last Christmas when I taught my nieces a dance to the themes of the Miser Brothers [Snow and Heat, for those of you who aren't familiar with them].)
2. My mom was teaching me to knit. Check. I’ve recently rediscovered this love. A couple years ago, when attempting to reteach myself this skill, I couldn’t figure out what the heck the book (entitled A Single-Cell’s Guide to Knitting: Baby Steps or something to that effect) was doing. I had to call my mom. She taught me over the phone.
3. I started a writer’s group called Writer’s Block (being blissfully ignorant as to the true meaning of that phrase), enlisted (drafted?) a few friends (and my sister because we needed a secretary), and wrote short stories to sell in our neighborhood. One of my friends decided to illustrate our stories. She’s now a graphic artist. Check. As I said on Facebook yesterday, I have the tinselest job in the world.
4. I spent nights reading one last chapter of a book until no more chapters existed; I finished the stack of books I got for Christmas by the end of Christmas break; I fell in love with Anne of Green Gables. Check. Check. Check.
5. I sewed a dress for my Barbie, though I didn’t particularly want to play with my Barbie much anymore. Work on this one.
6. I played school with my sister. (My mom found old school textbooks including–oh, the excitement–teacher’s editions. I still remember Roman city-states from teaching her about them.) Check. I teach flute and piano lessons and have opportunities to teach in different church venues. 
7. I played piano and, toward the end of my tenth year, began learning flute. Check. Though I haven’t played flute in months.
8. Every night, I slept with Big Foot, a stuffed bear my grandparents gave me before I was born. Check. No comment.
9. And in honor of Christmas, I watched White Christmas and Rudolph a dozen times this time of year. Check. Or at least I’m on my way.

So does this make me childish or childlike?