Isn't It Ironic?

When we are little, we resist naps like the plague.

When we grow older, we can’t get enough of them.

As children, we refuse to take baths.

As adults, we refuse to get out.

A baby sucks his feet and nibbles his toes.

An adult puts his foot in his mouth.

A child is considered shy or unfriendly.

An adult is called an introvert.

As children, we get blamed for making mistakes.

As adults, we spend our lives learning to forgive.

As children, we are told to put on our coats—even when we’re feeling hot.

As adults, we can’t figure out what we want.

As children, we color the walls, outside the lines, all over our faces—and are told off.

As adults, we fear expanding outside of the box.

As children, we touch dirt, we climb trees, we reach for the sky—and are ordered to wash hands, be careful, get down.

As adults, we touch screens, we press buttons, we push send, we sit down.

A child who puts on plaid tights with a floral dress is told to get changed.

An adult is called a trendsetter.

A child works hard at school all day, then spends hours doing homework at night.

An adult works hard all day and takes a breather at night.

A child wonders why someone looks weird and gets reprimanded.

As adults, we wonder when we lost our self-expression.

A child scores by knowing the answers.

An adult gains by asking the questions.

A baby smiles when staring at nothing.

A child smiles when gaining knowledge.

An adult smiles by emptying the mind.