Last weekend I asked Wendy if she thought that we’d ever grow up. After a few minutes of contemplation, we concluded that, at 30-something, we’ve probably reached the highest level of maturity that we are capable of attaining. Disappointingly, this was probably as good as it was going to get. ..like mental elves, getting older, but not taller - never able to reach a desirable height.
There just seems to be some disparity between the lines that are beginning to form around my eyes and what’s going on in my head.
The event that sparked these thoughts revolved around the large balls that Wendy had purchased for the children to play with last weekend. Comments like “Can we play with our balls when we get home” and “I hope Jack doesn’t bite our balls” that innocently emanated from the last row of the mini-van, causing Wendy and I to giggle in delight, indicated that something was definitely wrong.
Just last week Avery proudly announced during lunch, “I know what 69 is!”. After nearly choking on a crouton, I offered a fake smile and hoped that he wouldn’t tell me. Avery continued, “One hour and 9 minutes!”.
Several months ago after having dinner with Shaun & Wendy, and their neighbors Deb & Allen the children wanted the “adults” to come to their talent show. They provided us with a piece of paper in which we were instructed to sign in on. The children disappeared busying themselves with preparing for the show and the “adults” signed in: “Ima Jerk”, “Jim Nasium”, and other made up names. This was after many of these same adults had played with the kid’s “fart puddy” until they laughed so hard they cried. What type of adult even buys fart puddy for their children to play with?
I can’t imagine that our parents were as immature as we are. Some days I really think that we’re just slightly smarter than our kids; other days I don’t think we’re as smart. Were our parents just as immature and nonsensical as we are? Is maturity completely relative? Will I ever have that respectable air of maturity? Probably not, but the lines that are forming around my eyes are helpful in directing the tears of laughter away from my face. Just like there is bliss in ignorance, there is a certain joy in immaturity.