When Did You Last Let Yourself Be Silly?

You are waiting for the kettle. A song comes into your head, complete with a terrible final note. For a second you want to sing it to the mug. Then you remember you are an adult with things to do.

The moment passes.

There are plenty of sensible reasons to get on with the day. There is also room for a small, goofy moment that achieves very little and belongs entirely to you.

If you have been wondering how to be more playful as an adult, begin with something small enough to fit into the life you already have.

Notice the moment before you tidy it away

A silly voice. A deliberately dreadful rhyme. A private name for the plant that refuses to thrive. Dancing while you wait for the toast.

You might already have the impulse. The useful question is what happens next. Do you let it finish? Do you glance towards the door? Do you decide it would be embarrassing, even with nobody there?

Try this today: notice one playful impulse and give it a few seconds. Afterwards, write what happened and what nearly stopped you. Keep the explanation small.

That is the starting point of The Silliness I Let Myself Enjoy, an eight-week guided journal for being unserious on purpose.

What would you write on a page?

Each daily page gives you a question and space to record the moment. You tick who was in on it, circle a number on the giggle meter, and finish a sentence about what almost stopped you. There is a doodle box if drawing feels easier than explaining.

Here is an illustrative entry written for this article:

A few lines can hold the whole thing. You can be goofy alone, with another person or with an animal. A smirk counts. The page also allows a no-laugh day.

Across eight weeks, the prompts explore shared silliness, private silliness, childhood games, movement, laughter and things you invent on purpose. Each week has six daily entries and a review, giving you 48 daily entries in all.

The part you can return to

The weekly permission slips and optional dares offer ways to begin. At the end of each week, you nominate a moment for the Silliness Hall of Fame. By the closing pages, there is a collection of things you let yourself enjoy, including one you would happily do again.

You can skip a dare. You can leave the doodle box empty. There is no drawing skill to acquire before starting, and a missed day can stay missed.

Is this the journal you want?

Silliness is a good fit if your interest is specifically in play: the funny voice, the unnecessary game, the goofy idea that usually gets stopped halfway through.

If you would rather notice a wider range of passing pleasures — light through a window, a warm cup or a kind exchange — The Delight I Almost Missed offers that broader focus.

Start with the kind of moment you would most enjoy keeping. You only need one journal to begin.

Look inside The Silliness I Let Myself Enjoy or read the free preview. You can see the real pages before deciding whether they feel like somewhere you would want to write.