The Indoor Kid
I was driving the ChickieNob and a gaggle of her friends around, and one of them was talking about how much she loves winter because of skiing and snowboarding and hiking in the cold and sledding, but she also loves summer because of the pool and soccer and horseback riding and… She finished off her long list of activities she loves with a shrug: “I’m just an outdoor kid.”
Her list of activities sounded like my version of hell.
Like skiing, in general, is an activity I associate with the desolate world of Hoth. Going UP a hill solely for the purpose of coming DOWN a hill without even the benefit of seeing a tauntaun? Why not just stay at the base of the hill in the first place? Exercising in the cold? So I can sweat underneath layers of clothing? No, thank you.
I feel equally about hiking — and really, viewing most things I’ll see in nature. I feel like at this point in life, I’ve seen a lot of flowers, a lot of rocks, and a lot of pretty views. I did the camping years and I’m full. If I’m going to walk, I’m going to walk for the sole purpose of getting from A to B. And it’s likely going to be in a city. And if we’re not in a city, there better be historic ruins. And I can tell you the months that I won’t be walking outside: the months when all the foliage is gone and most life forms are hibernating because it’s cold.
Plus I don’t like mountains.
Flat land. I’m good with flat.
I’m a little better with summer activities, such as hanging out at the pool or beach. But what I like about those things is that I am outside doing an indoor activity. I drag my books outside and pretend that I’m indoors except that there is this strange thing called natural light hitting the page instead of the glow of a lamp. I don’t mind biking, but only because I know that if I go biking during the summer months, I can hold that up as evidence during the rest of the year that I do go outside, and therefore feel let off the hook from participating in other outdoor activities.
I called into the backseat, “I’m an indoor kid.”
I like reading books. And doing craft projects. And not going outside. And working on computer games. And not going outside. And writing and cooking and drawing. And doing none of these activities outside. I even like to run indoors. And do yoga indoors. And really, if we owned a stationary bike, I’d probably opt to do that indoors and skip the summer bike rides.
I would rather visit a really good library than witness a breath-taking view. I am pro-museum. I would rather see old buildings made out of stone than go witness stones in their natural habitat.
I am the sort of person who would probably feel a little sad and claustrophobic having to live in an underground bunker, but the reality is that I would soon realize that my life isn’t appreciably different.
The child was stunned by the idea of someone choosing to be indoors and then proceeded to try to convince me that I should want to be an outdoor kid, completely disregarding the fact that two people can have very different tastes, and what makes one person happy could make another person miserable. I’m never going to be an outdoor kid. I’ve never been an outdoor kid. I’m an indoor kid.
Which are you? An outdoor kid or an indoor kid?