That Time I Frolicked Through Central Park

frolicked [frol-ik] 1.to gambol merrily; to play in a frisky, light-spirited manner; romp 2. to have fun; engage in merrymaking; play merry pranks.

And that, my friends, is precisely what I did the day after I turned 26 and into a more sophisticated adult: I frolicked. I romped. Merrily. Light-spiritedly. In Central Park. Next to a small toddler running around pantsless. (That part isn’t mentioned in the dictionary.) Isn’t that what you do when you go on vacation?

If you don’t really know me, you’re wondering why the tarnation I did that. If you do know me, you’re wondering what took me so long. Whether you know me or not, you’re wondering when I incorporated tarnation into my vocabulary and why a child was running around commando while we frolicked and WHY I am wearing the same dress as my  sister; after all I am 26 and the idea of matching family outfits conjures horrifying images like this:

Courtesy of Awkward Family Photos.

The answer is simple: we frolicked around Central Park wearing matching dresses because when you are shopping with your little sister and she finds a dress that reminds you of Giselle from Enchanted, you should obviously both buy one.

And Giselle obviously frolicked just like we did.

Basically, this all began because we were going to Central Park during our trip to NYC last week, and Central Park is the land of both pantsless toddlers AND “That’s How You Know,” aka the best frolicky song ever. What’s more, Regan and I are both proud members of the “I Have Committed Enchanted to Memory and Harbor Unrealistic Goals of Meeting Prince Edward or At Least a Prince or At Least Someone Named Edward” Fan Club. It’s very exclusive.

This is the club’s secret handshake: You say “It’s goooood!” while trying to prevent your dress from flying up. Top secret.

So while we were in Central Park, in addition to frolicking, we also had to find and dance/trot around by the the same fountain by which Amy Adams danced. There was a general shortage of blue construction workers when we were there. They obviously didn’t get the memo that it was Be an Enchanting Nerd day.

In sum: we are basically the Elvis impersonators of the fairy tale world.

And maybe I will begin acting like an adult when I turn 27.