Adulting

Kids talk about how they can't wait to grow up and how being an adult will be "so much fun" because they can "do whatever they want."  Then real life happens, and those kids grow up to be adults who have real responsibilities, bills to pay, and not nearly the free time for which they were hoping.

But then - every once in a while - being an adult turns out to be exactly how kids dreamed it would be.

After a really long day on Thursday night, I finally got home at around 9:30.  By about 10:00, Rex and I were upstairs in bed, getting ready to go to sleep.  I sighed and said, "I'm thirsty.  I would really love some juice right now."  Rex said, "I was just thinking how I wish we had some ice cream."  We were quiet for a minute, then he sat up and said, "Well, come on!  Let's go get ice cream and juice!"

I looked at him as if he were nuts.  "Um, Rex.  It's 10:00. On a school night. We're already ready for bed.  We don't need ice cream and juice that badly.  We should really just go to sleep."  He sighed dejectedly because he knew I was right, and he sank back into his pillow.  After another beat of silence, he got the boyish glint in his eye that I fell in love with when I was seventeen.  He said, "You know what?  I don't care about any of that.  WE'RE GOING."  Then he got out of bed, threw on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and really didn't leave me any choice but to get up and follow.

We drove out to Walgreens looking like disheveled weirdos, and Rex whooped with joy when he found the ice cream he wanted.  They also had my favorite kind of juice (score!).  As we were getting ready to walk out, Rex stopped by one of the refrigerated displays and exclaimed, "Whoa...ROOT BEER?!  Do you realize what this MEANS?"  I looked confused, clearly not sharing his epiphany.  He held up his ice cream and said entirely too loudly, "ROOT BEER FLOATS!  YESSSS!!!"  The guy in the aisle with us looked at us like we were nuts.  You know what?  Maybe we are.  But I like it.

So obviously the root beer floats were a genius idea, we talked to the cashier lady about how awesome it would be if teachers could turn their eyes on "glitter mode" and look suddenly terrifying if kids were being bad, and then we got in the car to head home.

Basically, that's how I ended up eating ice cream at 10:30 on a school night, and I realized that my eight-year-old self would be very satisfied with how I turned out.