last night he was carefully listening to me and his mom discuss how much we loved mushrooms. he was also listening when i said christian hated them. i had forgotten he was listening until he interjected, “but aren’t grown ups supposed to like food?”
i doubt i would live up to hank’s definition of grown ups. i bet in his eyes grown ups are supposed to be brave.
they are probably supposed to already know how to do things like snowboard before they’re 33. and if they do go snowboarding for the first time, when they are 33, they shouldn’t be nervous. they also probably wouldn’t call it a day after taking a class and practicing on a baby hill with real babies whizzing past on skis. i’m pretty sure grown ups aren’t supposed to be scared to death of the ski lift after they’ve been forced on by all the clamoring friends and sandwiched between two experts (hank’s parents). and they’re definitely not supposed to cry at the top of the mountain while everyone waits. and waits. and waits.
luckily hank’s dad is a patient grown-up. he helped me get down the mountain, and somehow convinced me to get on the lift one more time.