Mike gave me eyes of judgment that said “That’s disgusting, Ashley.”
I gave him eyes of correction that said, “No, Mike, this is why being a grown up RULES.”
Actually, I said, “If you can’t do this when you’re a grown up, when can you do it?”
(His parents obviously instilled more manners in him than mine in me. I call the lack of manners a Good Time.)
Sometimes, my 10-year-old self realizes just how awesome it is to be a grown up.
No bed time. No one to tell you what you should or shouldn’t be doing. No one to tell you that going outside with wet hair will make you sick. No one to tell you you can’t have that box of Reese’s Puffs you’re craving like mad. (Hey. Don’t act like you’re immune to the craving.) No one to say that fudge and bread probably don’t make the best dinner.
I remember when I was a kid and couldn’t wait for all of this. Sometimes, I complain so much about all the busy-ness of life, bills, and other responsibilities that I forget just how lucky I am.
Now, please excuse me while I go pour myself some more wine into my coffee mug.