Age does not make us childish, as some say; it finds us true children.

Growing up means dropping the act

We like to tell ourselves that growing up means becoming serious, rational, and done with wonder. But what if the opposite is true? What if aging actually strips away the armor we built as kids—the need to perform competence, the fear of looking foolish, the constant checking of social approval—and reveals something simpler underneath? That's what Froude seems to be saying: the traits we dismiss as childish aren't something age adds to us; they're what was there all along, just buried.

You see this when older people stop apologizing for their curiosity, their enthusiasm, their willingness to be delighted by small things. A retired person might spend an afternoon fascinated by how birds navigate, or get genuinely excited about a terrible pun. They're not regressing—they're finally being themselves without the teenage need to seem bored and above things. The real cost of maturity, it turns out, isn't becoming deep and serious. It's the exhausting pretense that you're not interested in the world anymore.

The twist is that reclaiming this childishness is one of the more adult things you can do. It takes courage to be enthusiastic, to ask questions, to be enchanted—more courage than cynicism ever requires.