Adulting

Bank Teller: [cashing Josh's first paycheck] Okay, so how would you like that? Josh: Three dimes, a hundred dollar bill and 87 on.  --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.