Eventually, you have to put away childish things. Inevitably, you outgrow clothes, toys, the games you played with others. The world gets bigger as we do, the cup less easy to fill. Even trees spread their branches wide, away from the trunk, away from that pure nourishing vein of sap swelling so bountifully from the rich sweet-scented grass. Just because you get older, because things change and you with them, just because the human world grows duller as you grow further into it, and its taxes and jobs and mortgages and pensions, it doesn't mean you have to grow up.