Maturity Ever Faileth

As preposterous at it seems, in some ways, I am technically what they call "a grown-up." I don't see how, really, after being the youngest at everything my whole life. But now that children I used to babysit are married and have their own children, I'm starting to have that sinking feeling that it's true.

So, the other day, I decided to embrace my maturity and cook some peas to eat with my lunch. I felt quite grown-up doing this, because usually my lunches lean toward the "meat and cheese only" variety, whereas grown-ups customarily eat food that everyone knows is gross. Like peas.

It must have been during my self patting-on-the-back that I brought my hand down on the side of the dish, launching it into the air and spilling about half of the peas. This amused me for 2 reasons. One was that now I only had to eat half as many peas. The other was the irony that, in my attempt at maturity, I pretty much failed and instead reverted back to my infancy--by throwing my food on the floor.