I Wanna Be A Grown-Uppp!
Over Christmas I was enjoying some lovely (?!) baking time with my mother when she turned and smiled at me: “So how does it feel being all grown up now?”
I looked at her in bewilderment, my fingers hovering with cookie dough in mid-air.
“You have a career, you have your own apartment, you’re taking care of yourself…”
So? Since when does that make me an adult? I smacked the dough down onto the tray, trying to figure out what to say—since I’m sure my mother didn’t understand what the THWAP! of the cookie dough meant in regard to my emotional well-being.
“Mom. It doesn’t matter that I have a job and an apartment. I still feel like some stupid little kid playing dress-up.”
My mother looked surprised at my answer. I filled my mouth with cookie dough and she took the hint I didn’t want to discuss it further.
