What would child you think of adult you?

What would child you think of adult you?

We’ve all got one. That friend who relentlessly posts inspirational quotes and soul searching questions on Facebook.

Most of the time, they make you want gag, cringe or scream but occasionally, one manages to tweak a nipple of interest.

Such as the one that said:

What would the child you once were think of the adult you have become?

Hmmm. My instant reaction was ‘not much’, but I thought I’d delve deeper.

Starting at seven: what would a seven-year-old mini me think of me now at an ancient 41?

Me at Seven – I had questionable dress sense even then

Me at seven

Well in my experience, seven-year-olds are shallow little buggers and tend to judge largely on appearances and whether or not you like princesses.

So as seven-year-old me hid behind her fringe and acted shy, I’d probably be thinking, ‘She looks a bit like mum’ (obviously), ‘cool t-shirt’ and ‘look at all those wrinkly bits around her eyes.’

After twenty minutes or so of hanging out with me, I reckon adult me would be ‘in’ with child me.

I can play the recorder with my nose, hoola hoop, make up pretty awesome rude lyrics for pop songs and draw fairies/pirates on request, all these things that would hugely impress the seven year old me. Adult me is always willing to wedge myself into the swings at the playground, happy to blow up balloons, pretend to be an astronaut and share my Smarties.

Yes, I think seven year old me would be an easy win. Back then, I didn’t have any concept that I would become an adult, let alone any expectations of what type of adult I’d become.

Me at twelve

A slightly older version of me, say 12, would probably still be fairly happy with adult me. Pre-teen me did have some serious adult goals however. I know because I kept a diary and made lots of lists.

A sample one from that era includes:

  • get a dog (tick)
  • kiss Rowan Hooper (tick)
  • write a book (half a tick)
  • shear a sheep (not yet, give me time)
  • grow boobs (double tick)

12-year-old me would like the fact that they can understand my job (I never understood what my Dad did), they’d be impressed that I had a boyfriend (husband) and a few stamps in my passport. I’d be pleased I’m still a vegetarian. (Go me!)

I’d be horrified that I ever smoked, even though in all honesty I never enjoyed it much, and just did it to look cool. (I didn’t).

12-year-old me would be a little sad that adult me isn’t more girly, that I don’t have more friends and get invited to more parties.

She would also be gutted that I no longer wore pink pixie boots or jumpers with dogs on them.

Me at fifteen

15-year-old Kate would just be embarrassed by adult Kate. I mean seriously, I can’t drive, I wear weird clothes, I’m not in a band, I don’t drink enough booze, I’m not married to Simon Evans and my hair still isn’t as long as Helen Goodman’s.

So what that I passed all my exams and went to Uni, why didn’t I end up writing for NME or Smash hits? What a looooser!

And what’s with having a kid? I was never a googoo type, but thankfully my son is cute and wears cool outfits so 15-year-old me would possibly approve (especially if I was willing to pay me five quid an hour to babysit).

15-year-old me would be less than impressed by my back catalogue of boyfriends, about the length of time it took me to get married*, or buy a house, that I still bite my nails and have never learned to say ‘no’ to a bag of Frazzles.

Teenage Toon would also expect me to be more principled, more of a campaigner, more charitable and more involved.

15-year-old me had no concept of home loans or having to clean fluff out of the tumble dryer, or doing BAS, so, in this instance, 15-year-old me can piss off.

In summary, I think child me would give grown up me a B+, and I’m fine with that.


It’s taken much longer than I expected to become the kind of adult I wanted to be as a child, but now, but now I think I’ve nearly cracked it.

At long last I’m someone who likes who they are, what they do and how they look (98% of the time).

I think child me would be okay with that and more importantly, adult me thinks I’m totes amazeballs.

* Not sure if 15-year-old me would have thought my husband is hot. There’s a hint of Bon Jovi about him but also a touch of Noel Edmonds (my secret teenage crush).

Over to you

What would child you think of adult you? Let me know in the comments below:

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