How I Know Ali's Inner Child is Still Alive, Despite The Disturbing Evidence of Her Adulthood

When I walk past a really stacked playground, sometimes I get the tremendous urge to go for a swing and pump pump pump until I can pinch the clouds between my toes.

I'm not even close to being 'above' seeing 'kid' movies like 'The Princess and The Frog' and 'The Fantastic Mr. Fox.' On the contrary; I saw both and loved both (ESPECIALLY 'The Fantastic Mr. Fox').

Fashion is nice, and I understand that some people find it really important, but if I see you standing tall in Prada heels, clutching at a Coach purse in one hand while you remove lint from you Chanel suit with the other, I'd rather hang out with the 6 year old with the rainbow suspenders who thinks she looks sharp while sporting a headband AND a ponytail.

When I get hurt, I look forward to the scab forming so I can pick at it (too much info?).

Even with my extended level of coffee fiendom, there are still plenty of days where I'd much prefer a mug of hot cocoa topped with a melting mountain of whipped cream to be consumed with a deep spoon and much slurping.

I know that I 'pout' more often then I 'frown'…not because I think it's sexy (it's not) but because that's just what my face does when I'm pissed off or disappointed.

I really want someone to sit down and watch "Annie" with me again, the one with Bernadette Peters, Tim Curry, and Carol Burnette as Mrs. Hannigan. Who doesn't love "It's a Hard-Knock Life"?

I wish birthdays still called for a massive gathering of squealing friends wearing pointy hats and digging through goody bags filled with silly putty, plastic jewelry, kazoos, and bubble gum.

You know those little beads? That you arrange into whatever picture or design you want? That you iron? And then they all stick together? I wish I had a bucket of those. They're almost as much fun as Shrinky Dinks.

Shrinky Dinks are fun.

It would be nice if I still lived near a swamp like I did growing up so I could catch frogs, pat them on their chilly heads, and name them things like 'Bruhnhilda' and 'Mr. Noodles' before setting them free.

High-heels? Suck my Converse.

When I go into a candy store…I feel like a kid in a candy store. I mean, it's a store, A WHOLE STORE entirely devoted to candy. CANDY. Even the word makes the sides of my mouth do that weird but not unpleasant squirty thing.

I'd like to get some silly patterned galoshes for the sake of puddle jumping come spring.

When excited, I will legitmately jump up and down and clap my hands.

I would really like the opportunity to make a snow fort before it gets warm for good. Not the kind you pile, though, the kind you dig out of a massive snow bank.

I hope I get an Easter basket. I probably won't, but I hope I do.

I want a Razor scooter and long, downhill driveway. I could settle for a trampoline, though. Or a big, cold, body of water with a tattered rope knotted and dangling from an over-hanging tree.