My son's hair had gone from shaggy surfer curls to stringy serial killer locks. It was time for a haircut.

The local kiddie salon is filled with seats in the shapes of aeroplanes and racing cars. Pixar movies play on Mickey Mouse-shaped television sets. Gum ball dispensers sit next to pinball machines and an old Ms. Pac-Man. And when the kids are done getting cut and coiffed, they are given lollipops. I love getting my son's hair cut. The rainbow-colored room stands as a reminder of a simpler time, when adulting was not a daily duty. Oh, to be a kid again.

Adulting is hard. But does it have to be?

Before even entering the kiddie salon, my son and I noticed something different. Through the large balloon-shaped window, we saw a dad sitting in the car-shaped chair, getting a trim next to his son, who was in an airplane chair. The dad's feet didn't swing back and forth inches above the footstool like his son's, but he wore an identical wide grin. Both father and son cocked their heads to the right as they watched "A Bug's Life" and sucked on their lime-flavored suckers. Both father and son walked out of the salon with great haircuts and greater joy, and all I could think was: Why didn't I think of that?

Why do we insist on adults adulting? Why don't we give ourselves the same folly and fun we afford our children? A few years ago, I watched a viral video that showed stairs in a busy metro being turned into piano keys. With each step, music played. The result: More adults took the stairs instead of choosing the easier escalator. Even as adults, we choose fun. So more fun options should be offered to adults.

Consider how much the world would change if adults were simply offered a sticker after their annual checkup. No more dillydallying and delaying that dentist appointment. We could fight tartar with temporary tattoos! Conquer mammograms with M&M dispensers. Party down with Pap smears and our prize pencil set. Why, yes, I would like to lie down on a table that looks like Falkor from "The NeverEnding Story" for my colonoscopy. Thanks for asking.

Rather than reading letters on a chart, why can't the adult eye exam consist of counting how many ab muscles we see on a poster of Channing Tatum or Serena Williams? Rather than nude-colored Band-Aids after shots, why can't adults receive "Star Wars" bandages? At what age is it imperative that we graduate from being offered blue sparkly toothpaste and bubble gum-flavored mouthwash to move on to the distinctive stinging sensation of Listerine? It's time we re-evaluated our expectations.

There is no reason adult general practitioners can't have the same puzzles, coloring books and Highlights magazines in their waiting rooms that pediatricians do. And I can't be the only person who wishes the MRI machine were shaped like a tauntaun. For three years, I went to a terrible dentist. I kept going because while he performed my root canal, he played "SpongeBob SquarePants" on a large television. That matters. Why should adults just have to grin and bear the scary stuff when adding a light layer of levity is so easy to do?

Adulting comes with responsibilities, the chores and to-do lists going down a never-ending spiral of must-get-done or will-need-to-do-again-soon. We have to hold down jobs. We have to provide for our families. We have to pay our bills. We have to clean. We have to set examples for our kids.

What better reason to embrace play? What better reason to reward the monotony of due diligence? It's time to take the dull out of adulthood.

As my son selected the bulldozer salon chair and the movie "Cars" began to play on the Mickey-ears TV sets, I asked the salon receptionist how many adults get their hair cut at the establishment.

"Not nearly enough," she responded. "But the ones who do are always a lot of fun."

I asked whether they had anyone available to give me a haircut. They did not.

Adulting requires booking appointments ahead of time.

Before heading back to my kid, I grabbed two lollipops from the bin. "Those for your son?" the receptionist asked.

"One is," I said, unwrapping my favorite sour apple flavor.

The next haircut, we will be getting together.

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Marcus Kazmierczak