I have very caring friends – friends who are totally invested in my personal growth, friends who like to give me little gifts to guide me on my looooong and tedious journey to adulthood. It’s worth pointing out at this stage that this quest is one of their choosing, not mine.
Obviously, since I’m a book nerd, the “gifts” come in the form of books. The first one I received was How to Adult by Stephen Wildish. To say I skimmed this book is being exceedingly generous, but I did open it. It fell open to a double page where there were only six words across to the two pages. DRINK MORE WATER, on the left. DRINK LESS BOOZE, on the right. I closed the book.
The second book was less subtle than the first. Unf#ck Your Adulting by Faith G. Harper, PHD, LPC-S, ACS, CAN. I actually read this one and I came away with two things. Firstly, there is only one rule humans need in this world – Don’t be a dick. I’m actually onboard with that. The second thing is that – and I’m as shocked as anyone by this – I am actually an adult! I don’t know when it happened. It certainly wasn’t on my “to do” list. But somewhere along the line … It. Did. Happen.
Stop laughing.
Faith G. Harper says that just because you don’t make your bed in the morning, doesn’t mean you’re not an adult. So reading between the lines, the logical conclusion is that if you do make your bed in the morning, you must be an adult. Guess what. I do make my bed every morning – therefore, I must be an adult. Seems pretty clear to me, but if you’re not convinced – read on.
People have suggested that because I wear Wonder Woman socks with capes on them (among other “edgy” designs) to school, that I am somehow not an adult. I beg to differ. I wear those socks on days when I feel like I can’t face a day of educational mayhem. I put on my special socks and I go to work. That’s adulting – because the alternative is chucking a sickie. Putting on a pair of silly socks and dragging your arse to work is adulting. Whatever gets you there.
Others have suggested that hiding under the desk when the phone rings at work is not being an adult. I disagree. Hiding the phones would be childish, which I’ve only done once. It should be noted though, that this doesn’t work. A phone handset in a drawer is still clearly audible.
Someone chipped me once when I told a student that their handwriting looked like an act of vandalism. That apparently, is not what an adult should say. Adults should be kind, encouraging and empathetic – taking children’s feelings and delicate psychology into account when giving them feedback. Nope. It’s an adult’s job to be honest. Kids can only be damaged by what you say if they listen to you, and I’ve got to say – many of them don’t. Admittedly, one does need to be able to “read the room” – which is another thing adults do. I do “pick my targets”; I wouldn’t have said that to just anyone.
So in light of the overwhelming evidence presented, I conclude that I am indeed an adult. Consequently, my dear friends, there is no need to give me any more “adulting” books. I got this. If you do feel the need to give me any “gifts” in the future, you might consider making a selection from the following: a Captain Marvel onesie (to replace my Cookie Monster pyjamas, which I had to retire last winter); a dragon hand-puppet (an upgrade to my dragon finger puppet); a replica Star Wars lightsaber (since I’ve recently developed a moral objection to Nerf guns), a unicorn pinata (just because) or novelty Woodstock slippers (to keep my Snoopy slippers company)!