Feeling five years old

 My nails are painted in alternating shades of barbie pink. Every other finger is topped with a sparkly frosting, making me look like I've just attended my first ever sleepover, where raiding an elder sisters make-up bag is mandatory and spilling nail-varnish on the carpet is inevitable. I also feel kiddish because during this week stuck in north-west nowhere with an unhealthy mother, my dad has been working in Vancouver. He walked through the door at about 6pm and I bounced down the stairs faster than any excitable five-year-old. It's been a pretty depressing week if I'm honest. After two weeks of haribo munching, city exploring, sun worshiping, late night dancing and downright hilariousness abroad, my house just seemed so empty of smiles and excitement, and so full of worry and stress. Welcoming my dad back felt like shaking off a layer of dust and curling up in comfort.
I get that same feeling from old movies, only it's more fleeting...