If you see me walking around campus today, feel free to wish me a happy birthday. Yes, today is my 20th birthday. You’d think that being in your 20s would make you feel older and somehow ready to officially take on real world problems.

This couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, I don’t even feel 19. Sometimes, I still feel like a 5-year-old, watching “Blue’s Clues” and “The Price Is Right” as my mom made me grilled cheese and tomato soup before kindergarten. I’ve never outgrown this childhood sense of wonder and imagination, or my love of grilled cheese, tomato soup and Bob Barker, for that matter.

As I’m typing this, the background on my laptop is a poster for “The Muppets” and I am laughing along to “All That.” (If you’re reading this, Lori Beth Denberg, please come back to the world of sketch comedy.) I’ve never been afraid to be a kid at heart. In fact, I think it’s healthy.

If only I could actually be 5 years old again, even just for one day. I wouldn’t waste it watching cartoons or playing with my toys. I could do that any day. I’d do something that truly represented the best parts of being a kindergartener. I’d convince my mom to let me skip school so we could have a whole day of fun together.

After my usual lunch, we’d go to the library for story time. There, I would check out as many books as I could hold, and read them to her the entire way to our next destination, the park. At the park she would push me on the swings, but not the tire swing, in fear of me getting sick. Then we’d go home to eat dinner with my dad and sister. I’d tell them all about my day after giving them giant hugs.

After dinner, my sister would make me play school, or be the emcee in her own personal talent show. I’d do all of this without complaint, because she’s older and obviously knows best.

When it’s time for bed, my mom would tuck me in and read me a book of my choosing, usually “Goosebumps.” Thinking back, these were an odd series of books to treat as bedtime stories. No wonder I had nightmares. But on this night, I would sleep completely at peace, with my night-light and my Teddy keeping me safe.

Then, reality would have to set in. I’d close my eyes and wake up in the morning as my 20-year-old self.

Now, I know none of this is possible, but I still think it’s perfectly acceptable to occasionally let your inner child run free. Buy a coloring book, play on a playground, cry when you get a boo boo. Life’s too short to be grown-ups all the time.

Next time you’re freaking out about an exam or having a panic attack about your schedule, take a half-hour and let the 5-year-old you do whatever his or her heart desires. Go back to a time when there were no worries.

I know, at the age of 20, I’m in the “prime of my life.” But who’s to say you can’t have multiple primes of your life? My younger years truly were my glory days.