“Can we stop acting like joy has an age limit? If buying a stuffed animal, rewatching cartoons, using a coloring book, collecting cute stationery, or sleeping with a fuzzy blanket brings you peace in this chaotic world, that’s valid. The world is heavy. Bills are real. Burnout is constant. If something soft or silly makes it even a little bit lighter, let it. Being an adult doesn’t mean you have to let go of the things that once made you feel safe or happy. We don’t need less joy. We need more of it. Louder. Brighter. Unapologetic. Smile at the small things. Buy the plushie. Get the happy meal. Hug the pillow. Pick the pen with the glitter ink. You’re not too grown. You’re just tired. And you deserve softness, too.” — unknown

So, I ordered an orange stuffed yip yip today. It’s a soft, silly plushie that is huggable and makes me smile and it used to make me happy as a kid. So many ticked boxes with that purchase. Loud, bright, unapologetic joy for the win.

I always say that I’m going to make a fine adult one day. But I think perhaps I won’t bother. Toys are too much fun and adulting is entirely overrated.

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