Adulting

Little Me, waiting impatiently to be Big Me

Bank Teller: [cashing Josh's first paycheck] Okay, so how would you like that?

Josh: Three dimes, a hundred dollar bill and 87 ones.

                                                                                                                                                                                 --from Big

 

There are movies I identify with, and those I don’t. I’ve never felt sympatico with Patton, or made Sophie’s Choice, or experienced Birth of a Nation. But give me a film where a kid gets magically transformed into an adult, and brother, I am THERE. Big, Freaky Friday (both versions)-these flicks speak to my soul. 

 

For you see, I’ve wanted to be an adult since age five, give or take. I was ready to “put away childish things” by the time I hit first grade. I had less than zero interest in most toys (although Barbie inspired some happy daydreams. She was a glamorous grownup. Granted, her legs didn’t bend, but I could overlook that.) I vastly preferred watching the soapy As the World Turns, to the juvenile Romper Room. I loved ordering Shirley Temples at the bar in Pete’s Tavern (my Dad’s fave NYC hangout), swirling my swizzle stick in the ginger ale and pretending I was drinking a martini. To me, the years from birth through adolescence were like a boring waiting room where I languished, marking time until I could vote, and become a pilot (yes, I wanted my own plane too). 

 

You can imagine my joy when I reached The Magic Age. I could drive! And get a job! I could smoke Virginia Slims (and gag every time)! I could…get engaged! Which I did, at 17. I never had to lose another baby tooth, or pretend I liked clowns. No wonder so many people decided to remain adults! It was as thrilling as I’d imagined!

 

Well, gang, after 50+ years, I know the real scoop. Mind you, I don’t yearn to return to the playground, but there’s SO much they don’t tell you about Adultville! For example: you are EXPECTED to be savvy. As a kid, I’d been praised to the skies for my superior I.Q. Where were the kudos now, when I balanced a checkbook by myself? No one gives you a standing ovation for putting an IKEA bookcase together, or paying the electric bill, or flossing daily. Where’s the brass band??

 

Alas, I was misled. Getting older is tough, and often joyless and dull. I had wanted to be big, with all my heart, throughout my youth. Well, I made it, and frankly I’d give this experience a 6 out of 10, tops. Even without the bum knees and bad eyesight and wrinkles, it’s no picnic. And there’s no presto-chango to turn you back into Hayley Mills or Lindsay Lohan, either.

 

I told little Dimitri the other day, “Enjoy being a baby! Someday, you’ll miss the view from your stroller. You’ll never be carefree again.” 

 

As his Nana, I needed to tell him the truth. 

He started to cry. 

But maybe that was just gas. 

Which is still an issue for grownups—and nobody to burp us! 

Sigh.

Laugh while you can, Dimitri!