Letter from the past

Dear Future Me (You…Tubby),

Well, here I am, your sprightly 5-year-old self, writing from a time when everything seemed full of endless adventure and boundless possibility. I’ve just finished mastering the art of tying my shoelaces (well, almost), and I’m about to set off on the great journey of life, armed with a juice box and the kind of optimism that only comes from not understanding how taxes work.

First off, let me say: WOW. Look at you. No, seriously, LOOK at you. I know mirrors can be a tough sell these days, but come on—what happened to the boundless energy and ironclad metabolism? You’ve got to stop taking “dad bod” so literally. Anyway, I digress. Let’s talk about the real reason I’m writing.

I hear you’ve hit that magical stage of adulthood where politics has finally cracked through the last bastion of your patience. Bravo. You managed to ignore it for decades! But now, you’re in the thick of it, frustrated and yelling at the TV like it owes you money. You’re wondering how the world got this messy and why no one seems to care enough to fix it. Here’s a little secret: it’s always been messy. But you’re old enough now to realize that the adults never had it figured out either. Joke’s on you, buddy.

Remember this: Politics is like the playground at recess. Everyone is fighting over who gets to use the slide, who broke the rules for dodgeball, and who ate someone else’s pudding cup. Except now, everyone’s wearing suits and using words like “filibuster” instead of “no take-backs.” It’s exhausting, yes, but here’s the kicker: it’s also just part of the game.

So, what do you do about it? Honestly, not much. Don’t get me wrong—you should vote, speak up, and try to make things better, but don’t let it ruin your day. Remember when we used to build forts out of couch cushions? That was a pretty solid strategy. Just keep building your own little fortress of sanity where you can escape now and then.

Also, maybe stop reading comments on news articles. That’s like walking into the monkey enclosure at the zoo with a banana in your pocket—it never ends well.

As for me, I’m about to wipe my brain clean so I can start this wild adventure called life. I’ll lose the advanced knowledge of the universe I’ve been gifted just long enough to enjoy being 5 without knowing how long my knees will last or that spinach has iron in it. Before I go, though, let me leave you with this:

Chill out, tubby. Life’s too short to let politics give you heartburn. Keep chasing what makes you happy, and remember, no matter how old or cranky you get, you were once a kid who believed a juice box could solve any problem. Maybe it still can.

See you when you’re 50, tubby!

Love,
The Younger (and Clearly Wiser) You

P.S. Don’t touch the double chocolate pudding in 1987. You’ll know why.