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Naomi Charles

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“It was in the Cornish summer of his twelfth year that Peter began to notice just how different the worlds of children and grown-ups were. You could not exactly say that the parents never had fun. They went for swims - but never for longer than twenty minutes. They liked a game of volleyball, but only for half an hour or so. Occasionally they could be talked into hide-and-seek or lurky turkey or building a giant sand-castle, but those were special occasions. The fact was that all grown-ups, given half the chance, chose to sink into one of three activities on the beach: sitting around talking, reading newspapers and books, or snoozing. Their only exercise (if you could call it that) was long boring walks, and these were nothing more than excuses for more talking. On the beach, they often glanced at their watches and, long before anyone was hungry, began telling each other it was time to start thinking about lunch or supper. They invented errands for themselves - to the odd-job man who lived half a mile away, or to the garage in the village, or to the nearby town on shopping expeditions. They came back complaining about the holiday traffic, but of course they were the holiday traffic. These restless grown-ups made constant visits to the telephone box at the end of the lane to call their relatives, or their work, or their grown-up children. Peter noticed that most grown-ups could not begin their day happily until they had driven off to find a newspaper, the right newspaper. Others could not get through the day without cigarettes. Others had to have beer. Others could not get by without coffee. Some could not read a newspaper without smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. Adults were always snapping their fingers and groaning because someone had returned from town and forgotten something; there was always one more thing needed, and promises were made to get it tomorrow - another folding chair, shampoo, garlic, sun-glasses, clothes pegs - as if the holiday could not be enjoyed, could not even begin, until all these useless items had been gathered up.”

ChildrenFunGrowing UpSummerAdultsVacationRelaxationHabits
Book:The daydreamer
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“I hate to think I’ve got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster! It’s bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys’ games and work and manners! I can’t get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it’s worse than ever now, for I’m dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit like a poky old woman.”

GirlGrowing UpPersonalityLeaveStay
Book:Little Women
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“I occasionally find myself aching for the infant and toddler I’d once known and loved. She’s been replaced now with a little girl who has opinions about her hair, asks her mom to paint her nails, and will soon be spending most of her day at school, under the care of a teacher I have yet to meet. These days, I find myself wishing I could turn back the clock so I could more fully experience London’s first five years: I’d work fewer hours, spend more time playing on the floor with her, and share her wonder as she focuses on the flight path of butterflies. I want London to know how much joy she has added to my life and to tell her that I have done the best I could. I want her to understand that even though her mother has always been with her, I have loved her as much as any father could possibly love a daughter. Why, then, I sometimes wonder, do I feel as if that’s not enough?”

ChildrenGrowing UpUnconditional Love
Book:Two by Two
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“Growing up is not synonymous with maturing. Becoming an adult is a matter of age, not maturity. Being an adult does not ensure “adult behavior.” Adult behavior is a cultivated choice and a ongoing practice. There are too many so-called adults who are nothing more than “grown up” disempowered children living under the guise of maturity.”

WisdomLife QuotesRelationshipsGrowing UpMaturityBook QuotesAdulthoodPersonality Development
Author:Markus William Kasunich
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“Old people were forever telling her that they had been young once, but it was always hard for her to imagine. Especially when it seemed that they had forgotten what it was really like to be young. They usually spoke in terms of carefree swanning about without obligations, seeming to forget all the rules, the confusion, and the sheer frustration of trying to make sense of adults.”

YoungGrowing UpYouthAdulthoodMisunderstood Youth
Book:THEM THAT ASK NO QUESTIONS: A Sussex Steampunk Tale
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