Let Them Eat Cake

Does being a grown up mean getting to decide that cake is an acceptable dinner? Green layer cake with white icing and green glitter no less. If it is the measure of adulthood then I am officially grown up. I ate the most enormous slice of crocodile cake today. I think I like being a grown up, cake is pretty awesome. So is staying up late and watching movies with your friends. Talking nonsense, putting the world to rights and generally being pretty awesome. 

Of course being a grown up also means washing the dishes when everyone has gone home. Realising you have run out of milk and are the only one who is going to rectify the situation. Having to unload the washing machine at midnight. 

Oh and checking all the doors are locked, turning off the lights and going upstairs in a calm and rational manner even though you have suddenly realised you are all alone and you are afraid of the dark. Doing all those things even though your over active imagination has just wondered how you would react if the next time you walk into the kitchen there is a face outside the window. Worse still how you will react if when you go to pull your bedroom curtains on the first floor, there is a face outside the window. It means being able to look in the mirror even though your brain has just added, "what if there is another face there". 

If being a grown-up means having to rationally deal with all those things, and not being grown up means not deciding cake is ok for dinner, but someone else will sooth the anxiety created by your over active brain, I choose not grown up. It is not a choice though is it. We have to grow up. Even if our brains want to make it as hard as possible for us to achieve that. 

I'm going to go and wrap myself in the duvet, for I am not as grown up as I'd like to have people believe, but I do know that duvets are the ultimate protection again all and every monster know to those of the imaginative persuasion.