As an only child, I am used to entertaining myself. Not only am I used to it, I am probably hardwired to enjoy it. And back in 2020, in between the toilet paper wars and the crushing weight of the pandemic becoming a reality, I sank into the ultimate form of nostalgia for comfort – I rediscovered activities from my childhood.
There is less pressure to be productive as a kid. Your craft projects made out of sticky tape and cardboard don’t have to be a masterpieces and time in the kitchen can be spent baking things that can’t go wrong, like chocolate crackles or cakes made out of sand.
