I am not an adult. Technically, yes, of course, yes I am an adult. I have five sons to prove that, four of whom are adults themselves, one of whom is about to become a daddy, an adult world awaits him, a place where he is supposed to have all of the answers and know how to make small humans feel safe and believe that the time when they have to be adults is a million miles away.
I think my adults (OK, I’m going to stop using that word), I think my parents must have done too good a job at making the adult world seem like another dimension, one where I didn’t really have to go if I didn’t feel like. Stupidly, I visited the teenage place and felt that I was awesome at being a teenager and would probably be equally awesome being an adult. WRONG.