Musings on being a Grown Up

I often have concerns about growing up but the problem is I don’t actually now what that entails, not considering myself a Grown-Up at all.

This can be difficult especially when I land up yelling at my eldest, who is all of nine years old, that he needs to grow up. I fear that is the pot calling the kettle black.

Being a Grown-Up and feeling like a Grown-Up are obviously two completely unrelated things. You are a Grown-Up in that you are adult but whether you behave or feel like a Grown-Up is a matter of opinion.

When I think of Grown-Ups I think of my parents and it dawns on me that my boys see me as a Grown-Up and that in all probability my parents view their parents as the Grown Ups and so it will continue.

Grown-Ups are organised, poised, glamorous, unflappable, serene, knowlegable, considered, entertaining and endlessly patient. Attributes I have yet to garner – but that is my picture of a Grown Up I dread to think what my son thinks a Grown Up is; probably loud, contradictory, unfair, disorganised, nosey, and with a dubious dress sense.

And on that basis I should not be encouraging him to grow-up at all!