I’m not joining the circus…

So at what age are you no longer allowed to entertain the notion of running away and joining the circus?

Is it when you would no longer look good in Lycra or when you’d be too heavy to catch on the trapeze?

Or is it when you know that the traveling circus rules out any chance for quality coffee on a daily basis?

Is it baulking at the idea of sharing a caravan and toilet with the bearded lady all the while feeling more and more paranoid that you may one day be the bearded lady?

Is it the thought of all that popcorn that makes your teeth and bank balance hurt after spending $2000 on a crown for your tooth the last time you had popcorn?

Or is it something far more serious and responsible?

Is it realising that because you have a family, a mortgage and responsibilities that you can no longer run away and join the circus? That it can take a whole lot of planning just to have a quiet afternoon on your own.

And here ladies and gentlemen (said in my best Ringmaster’s voice) is the reality that we all face now. We can’t run away and join the circus. We are who we are. We do what we do. We stay where we are.

And instead we treasure our families, our quiet time and stay on the lookout for chin hairs.

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