My biological siblings are all older than I. Growing up, they wouldn’t allow me to hang out with them if I acted my chronological age, so in order to placate them and fulfill my desires of being part of, “the cool kids’ club,” I grew up a little quicker than most of my peers in school. I almost always felt as though I were a fish out of water when interacting with others my age, unless they were, “old souls,” like myself.
I married a man who is only 2 weeks younger than my oldest brother, and I partially credit our initial compatibility with how my siblings taught me to act, in order to relate to my siblings and their friends.
Now that I am in my 30s, with a family of my own, I feel as though I am finally finding my niche. I don’t feel, “old,” nor do I feel like the proverbial, “spring chicken.” I have years under my belt, but more importantly, I have experience under my belt.
So, imagine my surprise as I turned the aisle at my local Target recently, and saw toys from my childhood! Not just any toys – the Fisher Price toys, that I am sure my older siblings will remember fondly as well!
There were the Fisher Price Little People, with their animals, made similarly to the ones I played with growing up. The ones I vividly recall putting my finger into the hole at the bottom, and then pulling out in just a certain way so as to hear the resonating “pop,” that you could sometimes get. I admit I was a weird child, since I got quite the kick out of the suction and subsequent pop.
In addition to those toys, they had “my” Record Player! It took every ounce of willpower to not bring that toy home with us that day. It’s on my bucket list of toys to buy, now that I know it is for sale again.
They also were displaying “my” pull-along telephone, with the eyes that roll from side to side as you pull it along by its string while you run through the house. Surely others remember that phone?
And then, I saw it – proof that I am not “young” anymore, no matter what some people in my life say…
The sign at the top of the toys gave me pictorial proof that I am neither young, nor old.
Instead, I am “retro.”