This is apparently going to be one of those posts where I sound like an old person. You can insert your own jokes about gray hair here.

Back in my day, I always looked forward to summer vacation. It wasn’t like I hated school or anything. Far from it. I loved it, especially in elementary school. You basically got to learn a bunch of stuff and hang out with friends all day. Oh, and there was rectangular pizza and two breaks a day to go outside and play kickball. I don’t think I started dreading my education until toward the end of high school (but that’s a different story for a different day).

Still, after nine months of being in school, summer vacation sounded great. I’m sure if you asked any kid they would say the same thing. The difference between those imposters and an illustrious gentleman like myself is that I meant it — and I meant it for the entire summer. Nothing frustrates me more than seeing kids jump head-first into summer and then complain about being bored within two weeks. Yes, that means you, younger siblings.

I’d be lying if I said at least a tiny part of me thought about becoming a teacher because it would mean the preservation of a summer break. One of the weirdest transitions from college life to working life was how the real world became a 12-month, nonstop endeavor. It didn’t take long for me to miss the days of “boring” summer.

You know what the most annoying part about all this is? The adults in my life were completely right about this from the start. “Enjoy these days now, because being a grown-up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be!” 10-year-old me didn’t believe any of that nonsense — life was already pretty great then, and adding things like driving a car and making a bunch of money was only going to improve that status, right? Wrong, obviously.

I have a couple of paid weeks off coming up later this week, and my goal with them is to recreate those summer conditions. No elaborate plans, just taking time to do whatever the hell seems like a good idea that day. Maybe I’ll read through an entire book in one sitting out on the patio while it rains. Maybe I’ll hang out with some friends I haven’t had a ton of time to spend with recently. Maybe I’ll go to Camp Anawanna and — wait, that was a fictional place and I’m a little old for summer camp. But still.

This post is basically a reminder to let yourself be a kid again sometimes. Whether you’re 60 years old or 16, you occasionally lose sight of the simple things in life, and sometimes those are the greatest experiences of all.