Why are some of my most indelible, iconic, memorable moments from childhood ruined by gross stuff?
Man, if I was eight, and someone said, "foam party" I couldn't wait to get over there with my knee-high socks...sundress and bubble making machine.
Carefree. Playing with bubbles with my friends in the sun. Laughing and enjoying being at the prime of our youths.
Say that to me now, and it's like, ew, gross. I don't want to spend time with horny men and women. Who knows what goes on under all that foam?
Gross.
My childhood memories are tainted forever by my adult realizations.
Innocence found; innocence lost.
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