If you could be another age for a day, what would you pick?

Six days, seven and a half hours until it is precisely 30 years since the moment I drew my first breath.  Which age, what kind of breaths would I pick?

I could totally use a break.  I think four was a pretty stress-free year.  A typical day would have been spent following my dad around the vineyard.  I recall many happy days trudging around in my black rubber galoshes, walking up and down the rows, bouncing around in the old Chevy pickup, turning on the irrigation and watching it run down the furrows, trying to step exactly where he stepped but not being able to quite pull it off, feeling very tall riding on his shoulders, laughing hysterically at Dad's goofy antics, breathing in the scent of ripe grapes, having not a care in the world...not today, not tomorrow, not ever having a thing to worry about. 

Bloody hell, it wouldn't be bad to be 29 and a half again, either.  Following The Boy around corn, asparagus, potato, and raspberry fields, before things got so complicated.  Walking up and down the rows, watching him turn on irrigation circles, squirting him with the hose that I am supposed to be using to clean off the mesh in the irrigation ditch, bouncing around in his pickup, sidelong glances of him out of the corner of my eye, stealing kisses from him on a tractor, laughing hysterically at his goofy antics, breathing in the scent of ripe raspberries, having not a care in the world...until having to wake up and go to work tomorrow.  The only guy I've ever met in my entire life who can hold a candle to my dad.  The only guy I ever brought home whom my dad actually liked.

Both examples of days when I paid attention to what was actually happening around me.  Days of full presence.  Breathing, feeling, being.

But then things get complicated. 

And having to go to work sometimes sucks. 

So I'd go with being four. 

Final answer.

We're a bit distraught