I'm in my late twenties, I'm 3/4 of the way through law school, I've lived abroad several times, and I've survived some pretty crazy health stuff. You would think that would make me a mature person. It didn't.
I have the same level of maturity as my three year old niece. She's a very smart, but very typical toddler--she makes a lot of observations with no filter. Unfortunately, so does her Auntie KK. So here is what our conversations go like: Niece: You have crazy hair. Me: Well your hair is crazier. Niece: You're a bad singer. Me: YOU'RE A BAD SINGER. Niece: I don't get to wear dresses, I was in bed and out of bed and in bed and out of bed. Me: Well I GET to wear a dress because I'm a good girl. Niece: I put my puzzle together! Me: I bet I can do it faster than you.
Like seriously?! Why am I in competition with a toddler? What is the matter with me?!
This immature instinct isn't only applicable to my niece. It's to all kids. When I see kids running around the Smithsonians, my first instinct isn't go to approach their chaperone and ask them to control their kids. No my first instinct is to trip them. I get overly excited when it's the Jeopardy Teen Tournament because I get to be the world's biggest bully to my TV and shout like Adam Sandler in Billy Madison "WRONG!!!" when the kids answer the easy questions wrong. A little girl was sitting on a plane alone next to me when I was flying home from a trip to Memphis. She was having trouble opening her peanuts and so I offered to help. I handed the opened bag back to her and she says, "Thank you. I got the first one open." I was mature enough to say, "Those bags are hard to open," but my inner monologue went, "WELL YOU COULDN'T OPEN THIS BAG."
Seriously, it's pretty bad. I hope as I get older that more and more of my smart-ass-ness becomes inner monologue otherwise my kids are going to be little a-holes.
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