My little cousin loves her marker set. She got it a couple weeks ago when she turned five. I asked her if I could borrow the blue one yesterday and she replied, “No. It’s mine. You're too big for markers.” I realized that a lot of things have age limits. I’m too old for markers, swingsets, and lollipops, but too young to drink, vote, or even drive. I’m not an adult yet, but I’m certainly not a child anymore.

In response to this stereotypical idea about teenagers, I went out and bought a set of 100 markers, a coloring book, and three lollipops. I then went to the park and sat on the swingset and colored for two hours. One woman walked over to me and said, “Aren’t you a little too old to be swinging?” I told her no. When she asked what I was doing I told her that I was protesting stereotypes about age restrictions on certain things. She looked at me strangely, then walked away quickly.

My cousin goes to the park almost every day. Sure enough, she and my aunt soon arrived. When she spotted me, my cousin sprinted over to ask what I was doing.

“I’m being a kid,” I replied. Then I returned to my coloring book.

Do you know how easy it is now to color inside the lines? I didn’t realize, but it was odd. I hadn’t ever done it before, and I didn’t like it. Maybe being a kid wasn’t so bad. I mean, markers, lollipops, and free stuff are great. Unfortunately, semi-depressed teens don’t get free stuff.