I was helping my Dad put out rocks this morning. (Yes, we pick up rocks from one field and put them in the holes in another part of the field.) At one point, he was fiddling with his tractor and I yielded to temptation and climbed the stack of round hay bales. It was only three high, so less than 30 feet, but it's been years since I have done anything like it and I found myself enjoying it probably more than I should have. Made it to the top and just sat there for several minutes, enjoying the sunshine. Told my dad that I knew plenty of people who had never climbed hay bales and, while I know he was being facetious I have to agree at least a little bit, he laughed and said they were missing out on something fun.
Sometimes I think being an adult is nothing more than returning to our childhoods to discover that the things we hated when we were young are now the things we enjoy as adults.