Stay up late, drink grape drink whenever you want, watch grown-up movies, say potty words—like booty, eat massive amounts of junk food, and best of all, be out of school forever.
These were the items on my “when I become an adult” checklist and one could say I was slightly obsessed with crossing every T.
Fast forward to a now thirty-something adult who realizes, in a very bittersweet kind of way, being a kid was kinda dope.
I mean what really was there to worry about?
Preparing for work meant laying a couple outfits out at the end of the bed and staring at ’em for a few minutes. Hard labor was a few hours of yard work, and money saved meant I could splurge on the essentials—like Big League by the bucket and bubble tape. Stressing out was avoiding fat Brandon on pizza and cookie lunch days or wondering whether or not the girl in my art class liked me, and tough decisions were deciding whether or not to move my Lego time to before or after Babar the elephant.
I had it all. I was living the American Dream.
Stop playing, you know having your own desk in the corner cubicle next to “the weird Robert” is the culmination of all your childhood musings.
I mean, I just knew I was going to jump into a situation where people referred to me as Mr. Boss Sir, and I could kick my feet up on my desk, and make a few phone calls, and go home to a mansion on some “yeah, I’m kinda rich” type ish.
But naaaah, son…
I used to think driving cars would be hella fun and don’t get me wrong, they are still kinda fun but back then I always looked at them as like big a** go-carts.
The bad news is, driving has become one of the banes of my adult existence. Not because I hate driving, per say, but because I hate everyone else on the road. Simple.
The good news is, I literally saved 15% or more on car insurance because my wife and I switched to Geico a few years back. I kinda don’t hate the decision.
First of all, they never teach you about taxes in school (among other things that the man doesn’t want you to grasp so he can keep you down) and secondly, the more you make, the more they take.
It’s like fat Brandon grew up to be the government and he still really hates to see me dipped in butter, shining and glistening. Damn you fat Brandon!
You ever ask yourself as a kid what really even is a chicken nugget anyway?!
Answer: mystery pink stuff squeezed into an abstract “nugget”-shaped mold.
And I still think that’s why kids today are enormous. I saw an 8-year-old that was my height the other day with a full beard… The kid was huge!
Back when we were kids we could go out to the park and literally run around like crazy people for the better part of a day. We never had to worry about stretching or warming our muscles up before play.
But now our bodies just don’t quite work the way they used to. Which sucks because deep down inside we’re still pretty much the same energetic kids at heart.
Now you play a pick-up game with the boys over the weekend and the next day you’re walking like Phil Jackson. You ever see homeboy walk? Why else you think he used to sit in that booster seat on the bench back in the day?
But you’re kinda good at it.
You’ve arrived. Some of us on purpose and others by accident. Meaning, some of us were very aware of our impending adulthood and prepared wisely for it. While others of us (some still) just are kinda stumbling into it, figuring stuff out as we go.
Maybe you’ve decided to start a family, or a business, or chase your dreams of being that guy who sits on that little stool on the elevator and asks “what floor?”, or you’ve decided simply to be the adult version of your childhood self.
Either way, you’re here now and there’s no turning back. So, here’s to adulting—cheers!