Simple Joys

For Robert Fulgham it was crayons and climbing trees, for me it's brightly coloured nail polish and singing loudly in my car. Everyone has a simple joy that makes them smile. Something they probably don't openly disclose to their loved ones. Not because its bad, but because the fabric of society is built on the perception that adults don't relish in such things.
But seriously, who doesn't go out of their way to step on the crunchy leaf, or hum a few verses in an empty echoing hallway.
The reader opinion section of the metro paper is always full of "Am I too old to (insert strange habit here)." I think the strangest one was "eat custard and jelly." I was of the opinion that it was suitable for all ages and abilities, hence its prevalence with infants, the elderly and in hospitals. But that's the English for you.

I have often pondered the line between innocent indulgence and the beginnings of insanity. Is saying hello to staring cattle too far? Or using inappropriate slang for your ethnicity and age? If I want to eat fairy bread or buy children's stationary, because that simple joy makes me smile, is that acceptable? And more importantly who's to judge?

Let he who is without simple joys cast the first stone? Perhaps we should just buy him a box of crayons instead.