You know the saying: "Growing old is inevitable; growing up is optional."
I've bought myself a toy (Er... no, not an Ann Summers Rabbit - though it does buzz!)
I splashed out £2.50 the other day in a charity shop, on a Buzz Lightyear toy. There are many models, it turns out, but this one was top of the range in its day, with a gimbal-mounted head, so he knows the orientation of his body in relation to his head. If Buzz is turned upside down he says,
"Hey, is this a regulation manoeuvre? Turn me OVER!"
He says (and does) lots of other fun stuff too.
But...Horror of horrors! I dropped poor old Buzz and decapitated him. One or two bits of the gadgetry didn't work anyway, but he's now had major surgery, thanks to my husband and his soldering iron, and is in even better shape than when I bought him.
Now I'm yearning for one of those big, really complex Transformer toys - a "Robot in Disguise". (They're just so
clever.)
I'm only buying these things for when my grandchildren come around, or as inspiration for a poem, of course...
I'm surely not alone in this regard; who else is mature enough to admit to being a big kid at heart?
Jayne