Correct me if I’m wrong.

There’s a childhood obesity epidemic happening in America, right?

If you watch the news (and by “you” I mean “you” because I don’t watch the news because I’m a Highly Sensitive Person and it’s part of my Plan to a Healthier Me, which, so far, isn’t working out very well–more on that later), the atrocity of overweight, unhealthy kids comes up a lot, right?

Children with Type 2 diabetes. It’s awful.

It’s also NOT happening in my neighborhood.

I am surrounded (as in they’re everywhere) by slim, energetic, speedy kids.

They jump. For no apparent reason.

They bounce or kick balls. Endlessly.

They race through the streets on roller-things.

And they scream. Not for ice cream. They just scream. Randomly. Incessantly.

But they are fit as a fiddle.

I am fit to be tied.

You see, I mentioned that I’m a Highly Sensitive Person, or HSP. That means I prefer, no require, silence to maintain my sanity.

HSPs startle easily. And nothing spells startle like a random, high-pitched, child-scream.

Okay, I get it. These kids are having fun. When they get excited, they scream in delight.

But a couple of little boys have a screaming contest (a scream-off?) as they walk to their homes when they get off the school bus. That’s not having fun and getting excited, that’s psychotic.

Well, I was a kid once (a very long time ago).

I kind of remember having fun.

I don’t remember screaming.

Screaming was not allowed.

I came from a generation that had parents who made kids follow certain rules.

One of those rules, at least in my house, had to do with screaming. The rule was don’t do it.

I suppose screaming was allowed if:

1. My sister was pulling my hair and a fist-full actually came out of my head.

2. The rollercoaster I was on malfunctioned.

3.

I guess that was about it. In all other cases, quietly alert the Adult In Charge. Or suck it up in silence.

Where are the parents of these screaming children?

Aren’t they worried something horrible is happening to their precious progeny?

No. They’re probably reassured by the constant screaming. That’s how they know everything is okay. Just like my mom knew everything was okay when we were playing quietly.

A lot sure has changed in 50 years.