It’s pretty simple, really. I’m planning to carry on a long tradition (I won’t name names) of remaining not just childlike but completely immature in every way possible. That way no one will catch on as I slide on down into full dementia.

One of the things that makes this so wonderfully easy for me is artistic license, naturally. But another is simply that I’ve never shaken the innocence of the young and naive twerp and am happy to continuously wallow in my ignorance and the fantasies it engenders. I’ll try to be a realist as far as required, sure, when it comes to stuff like keeping my teeth brushed and taxes paid and not subsisting entirely on quiescently frozen treats, no matter how alluring that may be. Beyond that, no promises.

What good can come of being overly adult when there's still so much mischief to make?

I can pull up the ol’ Big Kid Underpants with the best of ’em, but much of the time I don’t really see the point. Far preferable to frolic the halcyon meadows of silliness for as long as I can get away with it.

If you're not ready to just jump in and hit the road, step aside!

Too responsible or distracted by Real Life to get on board with that? See you later, pal!