Ah, adulthood. The art of doing your taxes while trying to put a fitted sheet on a bed. If you are over 25 and reading this, you know what I mean. If you are under 25 and reading this, you will know what I mean soon enough.
I’m an only child so I grew up around adults and as a kids, you do as the people around you do. The adults around me were into all kinds of grown up things, like classical music so as a kid I was into those things too. It took until I reached adulthood to figure out why all the kids said I was weird. Mostly it was because I spoke like an adult in a sea of kids.
Now I’m in a sea of kids every day and I behave like a child. I like Snapchat. I like to end my Facebook posts with “AF.” I update social media when I drink a unicorn frappuccino. TLDR, it was a disappointment.
Anyway, last weekend I was with a friend of mine and her son and husband at the Children’s museum in Boston, one of the only museums in Boston that I haven’t visited 172 times. Its a fun little place with a cute exhibits and general fun.
Afterwards I went to eat lunch with my friends and we gossiped about people we know and we talked about how behind we felt with respect to everyone else. It struck me at that moment that my friend’s son must be thinking that we’re talking about all sorts of complex topics, when we were child idle chitchatting and gossiping.
Either way, adulting I guess is just living.