Six Childhood Conveniences Adults Should Stop Hating On and Adopt

Six Childhood Conveniences Adults Should Stop Hating On and Adopt

In honor of what I can only hope will be the astronomical success of Forever Lazy adult jammers (complete with a friggin’ butt flap), the grown children at The Tangential have compiled a list of six things from yesteryear that adults seem to have forgotten are not only totally sweet, but integral to a happy life full of rainbows and adorable pony bellies.

Forever Lazy/Adult Footie Pajamas
Any adult that claims they would not wear footie pajamas with the delighted reckless abandon of a bright-eyed child is a damn dirty liar.  No, they’re not sexy. But neither is the Snuggie, and this is just a Snuggie that’s got its shit together.

Power Wheels
Can anybody tell me who decided that adult vehicular transportation meant gasoline consumption? Because I’d like to punch that person in the back of the head. I don’t care if I’m 5’10”, I’d pooter to school in a Barbie-themed Power Wheel in a heartbeat, knees awkwardly dangling off the edges of the car, if it means avoiding $3.00 a gallon.

Doorway Baby Jumper
I remember watching my baby sisters bounce gleefully in the living room, sproinging and waving their chunky little arms in the air, and me glaring at them from the couch, green with jealousy.  Let’s all us adults finally collectively agree that this is exactly the sort of thing we want to be sitting in while watching full seasons of Entourage on DVD.

Do I even have to explain this one?  You woke up at 6 a.m., you’ve been at work staring dejectedly at a computer screen for the last five hours, you left your packed lunch on top of the car which means it’s probably strewn across three lanes of 35W, and you don’t even have a night full of NBC comedies to look forward to when you get home because it’s Tuesday.  Climb under your desk and sleep that shit off, yo.

Sound Books
I feel like my reading experience would be improved if I could push a splash button and a wah waaaah disappointment horn button when Ophelia kicks the bucket.  Because like a child, my technologically-wired brain has a limited attention span, and I may not make it through Act V if I am not aurally as well as intellectually stimulated.

Go build a fort. G’head, I’ll wait here. You don’t remember how? You just need some chairs, couch cushions, a couple of jump ropes, a broom or two, a collection of clothespins, all the blankets in the house, and a pocket full of dreams.  Got it built? Good. Now I dare you to spend an hour in there and not end up using a hair dryer as a makeshift laser gun and make pew pew pew! noises as you shoot up the imaginary horde of space zombies that are attacking you.

Katie Sisneros built a room-sized fort as recently as 2007.