The freaky Friday syndrome

He sat there wearing his gray shirt with no pants to cover up his baby legs. Instead he wore a diaper while he mindlessly ripped page after page out of his notebook as if he was racing to strip down the notebook until there was nothing left.

I stood near the door waiting for him to look up. Before I even opened my mouth, my impossibly cute 2-year-old nephew lifted up his chin, smiled and waved goodbye with his right hand.

Illustration by Zon Petilla

“Byeeeee!” he squeaked.

Typically I would spear the fool who rushes me out the door, but I couldn’t. I just returned the smile and went in to plant a kiss on his cheeks.

About 30 minutes earlier, my nephew and I had walked around my parents’ home in Modesto searching for who knows what. All I could do was point in the same direction he was pointing, act interested and laugh. He did the same. Then he proceeded to play with all the toys he got the day before for his birthday.

The last thing I wanted to do this past weekend was leave. But I had to, knowing darn well I only had a couple of school weeks left. I knew I had to be mature and not act like a baby.

Then again, I wanted to stay. I wanted to play. I wanted to do nothing, just like a kid. My heart screamed for this innocence.

As I was driving back home I thought about how my life would be if I switched bodies with my nephew. Call it the “Freaky Friday” syndrome.

Imagine my nephew in grown-up clothes. Then picture me in diapers, sucking on a pacifier. Imagine him taking phone calls for interviews and presenting in front of a class while I ate applesauce and watched it fall down on my bib.

What kind of a life would that be? A sweet one.

With finals lurking around the corner like a mugger, the life of a kid sounds like the perfect solution. Imagine that.

Imagine when the sun breaks into the day and the only thought is, “Where’s my milk bottle, Mommy?” It’s not that simple in the adult world, as some of you already know. Our days are usually planned out, if not on paper then in our subconscious.

Sigh. There’s nothing I can do now except finish the semester strong then go to the supermarket and pick up my applesauce.

Comment on this story in the Opinion forum >>