Adult Children

When I was but a wee thing, I believed kids and adults were wholly different types of beings. Sure, we had some similarities: both needed to eat, both liked hugs, and both liked to play games. (Though it seemed adults liked this far less than children.) In my developing mind, the tall world was an incredible place for it was free of rules and regulations, and everyone treated one another with respect and dignity.

I believed that adults were never petty, needy, or self centered like children. After all, that was what we were being groomed to become; it was why we were taught to learn our responses of “please”, “thank you”, and “excuse me” - so that someday we could magically morph into those super-human beings known as grown-ups.

When that day came, we could become self efficient, responsible, and never fret because we would always remember to look at the bigger life picture.

In elementary school I remember thinking high school kids were so old. They could drive, they could go on dates, and they could even get jobs. They must be so wise, I used to assume, and they must never worry about what other people think about them. They probably aren’t even scared of the dark anymore.

Needless to say, as time passed I was dismayed over and over again by the degree to which it became evident that these thoughts and assumptions were viciously untrue. To be honest, the shock of it still hits me from time to time.

Take this little instance for example:

A few weeks ago I was at the grocery store, minding own business. I was taking a long pause in the dairy section to scrutinize yogurt labels for a comprehensive comparison of sugar and protein contents. (A weekly battle.)

Suddenly, my Spidey senses began tingling as a woman approached the lit row of cultured bacteria in a huff, occupying the space beside me. I assumed at first that she had spotted the “10 for $10” sale on the useless and sugar laden Yoplait single servings, but then I noticed she was reared up before them with her arms crossed like a general before troops preparing to march into the climactic battle of an epic movie.

The rage was radiating off this woman, and my instincts ordered me to skedaddle ASAP. I had not yet, however, managed to decide if I was willing to sacrifice 4 grams of protein for the extra sugar that inevitably accompanies all vanilla flavoring, so I lingered.

A few seconds later, a discombobulated punk musician looking gent came to rage lady’s side.

“What the hell is your problem?” I heard him whisper.
“Don’t speak to me,” she seethed. I could smell the venom of her words wafting through the air. “You have no right to speak to me.”

Well, I sure wasn’t going anywhere now … awkward turtle.

“I don’t get why you’re mad at me,” he whined, oblivious to his imminent peril.
“It was my iced tea,” she hissed.
I schooled my features to neutrality.

“I was thirsty,” he shrugged, placing a daring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll buy you another one. Right now. Whatever you want.”
“Just stop talking,” she huffed, slapping his hand away.

That’s when the proverbial camel’s back broke, and musician guy transformed into a balrog.

“Gawd!” he roared. “You’re such a _________.”
(Blank line = slew of uncreative insults typically aimed at a female.)
As the volume went up and fellow shoppers began turning their heads, I hastily chose the extra sugar and got the heck outta there.

I know what you’re thinking – these two were probably 16, 17, right? Oooooh no. We’re talking late thirties, people. (Maybe you’re not surprised.) And yes, they likely had a sea of bigger, deeper issues over which they were actually fighting (I hope?), but still!

You all probably have your own similar stories to this one; from people screaming at one another over parking spaces during Christmas, co-workers with emotional Richter scales, bosses who whine like babies, family or friends who are “no longer on speaking terms” for [insert pathetic reasoning], etc.

It’s not just that I’m amazed by how immature adults can be – I am dumb founded by how much more childish adults are than I ever was as a child! I was raised to do my very best to treat my elders and peers with sensible courtesy, good manners, and only the occasional glib remark. Yet even the wildest of toddler tantrums can hardly be compared to some of the shamelessly self-centered actions of the adult world. It certainly makes me wonder exactly what sort of depraved environments produced the squirrely nutters who apparently make up the bulk of my peers.

Yet, there is hope. As adults, we are never forced to shed the superior qualities and characteristics of children. I rejoice that like Peter Pan, I never have to grow up and am free to remain a “kid at heart” by continuing to be curious, silly, open minded, adventurous, and innocent in all the ways that distinguished childhood as awesome.

Down with big babies. Long live big kids!