Occasionally, I'm mistaken for an adult because of my age

 

Occasionally I'm mistaken for an adult because of my age

15 March 2024

Occasionally I’m mistaken for an adult because of my age. Though it’s perhaps it’s the sprigs of grey in my hair. Or maybe it’s my size? Regardless of the cause, it’s alarming.

 

Cause I don’t feel very adult-ish at all. Surely there’s a higher degree of adult than where I’m at? It can’t merely be judged on height, right? When do I unlock that level? It quite simply doesn’t feel responsible and very astute to call me an adult. Who decided to burden me with this label? To bestow it upon me? Have they even met me? This seems like a very grave mistake. An unfathomably lapse in judgement.

 

Now my age might indicate that I could certainly qualify for this title. Yet I feel remarkably and alarmingly unqualified.

 

I speak to my Mom multiple times a day. Cause I genuinely like her, never mind love her. She’s definitely an adult. She’s clever and wise. And extremely entertaining. So there’s also that.

 

Actually, now that I come to think of it, she’s not a stereotypical adult either. Not in the slightest at all! Perhaps there’s a pattern here?

 

Adults have their lives together. They have savings and investments. Rainy day funds. They plan for their retirement. Take annual holidays. They do meal planning and cook healthy meals. They wear big people’s clothes (pretty sure most adults where shoes every single day – madness!). They remember passwords. They watch things like the news on TV. They know what’s happening in politics. Their paperwork is in order. Licences never expire. They have a basic understanding of Geography (I fail dismally at that). They submit things long in advance (whatever things might be). They remember where important documents are kept. They know emphatically what causes tides in the ocean (I have a vague impression of it having something to do with the moon and gravitational pull, etc). They can convert from inches to feet, to meters in their head. They remember different time zones. They know about taxes and elections. Converting Fahrenheit to Celsius. Basically, they have a handle on doing grown-up stuff.

 

Quite scary how far off the mark I am. But, I wing it, I improvise, and I get by. Though I am just fluffing it and making it up along the way.

 

Hey, it works for me. Wondering at what stage my kids will figure it out? That I don’t have any more of a handle on adulthood than them. And they look to me to help guide them. Wonder when they’ll figure out the truth about me?

 

If I had to stop and think about it, it would scare me spitless. Which is why I don’t think about it.

 

It’s one of the wonderful side benefits of avoiding adulthood for as long as possible. In fact, I can highly recommend it. Avoidance is key. Shun the whole concept. Banish it from your thoughts. Abstention at all times.

 

Elusion is such bliss. And makes for great sleeping at night.

 

PS: Please don’t tell my kids that I don’t really know what I’m doing. TIA. 😊

 

PPS: If I was a real adult, I’d definitely be better at filling out forms. Why are they sometimes so difficult?

PPS: Wonder what my tax number is? Or where to even find it.