Especially since I’ve been working, I’ve been growing the wrong way. You see, Mom wants me to grow up into an adult. But instead, I seem to be growing down into more of a child.
I’m hoping my neuro-psych tests on Wednesday will prove that this is happening.
I can tell that my mama struggles with this. The problem is that the things that make me truly happy aren’t adult things. Sometimes she gives in. For example, at the mall last weekend she got me a new Mickey Mouse t-shirt that I’ve only taken off long enough to watch. She always has said, “Mickey is for kids,” but she knew how happy it would make me (and it did!) and bought it for me. (Don’t worry, it was on sale.)
I’ve had the desperate urge to get my American Girl dolls back out and play with them, and she’s letting me do that. I never really play played with dolls, just dressed them and undressed them and dressed them again. Oh, and put them to bed. I love to put them to bed.
I do puzzles, color pictures, and watch kids’ shows on TV.
I have a secret, very childlike urge, that I can’t even admit to. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m 22. 22.
Grow up, already.