Being an adult stinks sometimes. It's a fact of life that we deal with day in, day out. We go to work, pay our bills and try to be responsible.

Sure, there are a couple of perks to being an adult. I was reminded of that earlier in the week while sipping a margarita with one of my best girlfriends. We let the warm summer evening slip through time while gabbing about husbands, jobs and the past. We ate too much and laughed even more.

But sometimes you need more in life. Sometimes you need to unplug the iPod. Walk away from the computer. Put down the cell phone. Sometimes you need to just be a kid again.

There is only one kid I know who could make me forget about being an adult. Make me forget the bills in my mailbox, the unanswered e-mails in my inbox and those pesky voice mails.

It was a hard job to do, but my niece was up for the task.

For a week I acted like I never heard the words Roth IRA. The television was either on the Disney Channel or it was playing a video game. SpongeBob SquarePants also was a favorite. No CNN or Headline News.

Nutrition went out the window, too. It was nothing but pizza, burgers and mac and cheese. My cabinets were filled to the brim with potato chips. The freezer had plenty of ice cream. Calories didn't count. It possibly was the best week of my life.

It's been awhile since I was 8 years old. At first, I wasn't sure how to act. I didn't know the protocol. My niece showed me the ropes. She taught me which Jonas Brother was the cutest. According to her, it's Nick. To me they all looked alike. She also informed me that I was insane if I though Han Solo was cuter than Luke Sykwalker. And she didn't understand why I had no further interests in "Star Wars" other then the hunky frontmen. It's only the best movie series ever, according to her. I tried to convince her my favorite movie, "Grease," was the best move ever. Apparently, 8-year-olds aren't as easily convinced as I was.

The week ended tearfully. Her parents demanded I take her back. I thought about keeping her -- her parents get to see her all the time. Then I figured my waistline couldn't handle the excess. Not to mention my bank account wouldn't handle the many transactions that took place that week. All that fun cost money. I had to give her up. It was time to be an adult, again.

Shana Adkisson 366-3532 sadkisson@normantranscript.com