Every once in a while I'm zapped back to my own childhood shenanigans with my younger brother as I listen to Vern and his little sister:
"Stop copying me!"
"I'm telling!"
"Maaaaaawm!"
"You're not the boss of me!"
Sometimes I sit on the couch amid the din and think, "Oh my God. I am the adult here. How the heck did that happen?" Occasionally I feel as if I am in some sort of coma or dream and I wonder how I got here - to the point of being a so-called "grown up." I keep expecting my own Mom and Dad are going to wander in at some point and say, "Alright! That's enough of this racket! If you two don't cut it out you'll both be going to your rooms!"
But they don't come. It's up to me and Groom-boy to provide the standard clichés. I tell my parents about these echoes of my childhood and sometimes they laugh out loud. When I think about all the squabbling they endured between my brother and me I don't blame them for finding it amusing. I would, too, and sometimes I do. In fact, I always laugh when I say, just for the fun and sheer nostalgia of it (although the kids don't necessarily know that): "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about."
Does anyone else ever wonder about this thing called "being a grown-up"?
No comments:
Post a Comment