I Guess This is Growing Up

I remember the first instant I realized I was an adult. It was about three years ago, and I was walking out of a bowling alley with my dad and two brothers. I don't remember what we were chatting about, but I stated, “When I grow up I want to have a room filled with nothing but trampolines.” I was expecting some head nods and agreement. “You’re right, Nathan. That would be awesome. That way your butler staff won’t mind the constant trips to the kitchen to fetch you Ovaltine. You have the best ideas!” But Dad, in his infinite wisdom and button-up shirt, chuckled and retorted, “What do you mean 'when you grow up?'”

A little blindsided, I thought about it for a moment. I lived on my own. I paid all my own bills. I could carry a conversation about the stock market. And, perhaps most incriminatingly, I wore dress pants five days a week. Yes, there was no denying it. I was an adult. Not only that, but I was an adult who had yet to fulfill his childhood dream of having a room filled with wall-to-wall trampolines and a team of butlers to make Ovaltine. It was a harsh realization.

"How did you do that backflip without spilling any Ovaltine? I'm impressed, Charles. Now keep them coming."

And so Life had dragged me into adulthood like a toddler out of a Wal-Mart – kicking and screaming and demanding toys. It was an awkward transition. I focused on the death of an era without seeing what this new era really had to offer. I feel like I’m finding my footing though, now that Adulthood and I have an agreement. For instance, I agree to wear button up shirts if I can secretly wear band t-shirts underneath. I agree to wake up early and be a productive member of society if I can still stay up late eating cereal and playing video games. And Adulthood lets me have long hair as long as I agree to cut it before I go bald.

I will not be this man.

The truth is, being an adult doesn't mean you have to change intrinsically, and I think that's one thing I really feared. Sure, you get responsibilities and bills, and your skeletal system fails you, and you can no longer audition for The Real World, and the music on the radio makes you want to crash into the nearest telephone pole. But you stay yourself. The job you have won't entirely define you, and neither will the silly and impractical clothes society says is appropriate to wear at the work place. (Whoever first mandated that suits should be worn to work every day never had a business meeting in the South during July.) 

I still miss the experiences I had as a kid, but I'm looking forward to the new ones I will have now as an adult. I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be for the moment. Who knows where I will be next, though…and that’s the appeal. As an adult I can do whatever I want. I might have a fancy job in a skyscraper where I shout orders at underlings who scatter like startled fish. Or I might be traveling the globe with a circus as Director of Elephant Poop Cleaning, or possibly the World’s Least Attractive Bearded Lady. Whatever I do, I’m learning how to enjoy the ride. I just have to keep reminding myself to stop and smell the roses drink a glass of Ovaltine.

"Charles, so help me, if I ever see you carrying a tray without Ovaltine on it again..."