Being told you are too young to do something is always frustrating. My step-son told me that the neighbor boy wouldn’t let him climb over the railing of the porch unless he was five. The neighbor boy actually tells my step-son that he can’t do a lot of things because he isn’t five. “Only five year olds can zee my new zpiderman game. You’re too young,” he whines. I try to tell my disappointed little boy that he can do all those things, except for the dangerous things like climbing over a three foot railing to fall five feet. (Of course, he would try that first.) What I really want is to do is shake the little neighborhood SOB and make fun of his lisp. I restrain myself because this would be inappropriate behavior.
All our life we are living in hopes to get older so we can be old enough to do certain activities. I remember pleading with my parents to stay out late or drive. The ability to watch Rated R movies, drive, move out of the house, drink alcohol, and even rent a car involve being a certain age. I am also pretty sure that I can’t retire or collect social security until I am much older either. Life is filled with these milestones that mean absolutely nothing after you reach them.
Now, I would love to not be allowed to drive; it would prevent me taxing every kid in the neighbor to practice. I live in my own house now; I would give anything for my parents to fork out the mortgage, gas, and electric bills. Drinking alcohol isn’t all that essential since college; although, I enjoy a drink now and then. My goal in driving does NOT involve having to rent car because it only means something bad happened to my car. Rated R movies are any of them worthwhile? I hardly pay attention to the ratings of movies anymore. And I am pretty sure my reward for retiring will only lead to death.
Recently I was faced with a co-worker taunting me for my young age. Apparently being fifty-five allows you to remind people over and over how long you’ve been doing certain tasks. At first I really cared. I wanted her to take me seriously. Just because I am only thirty something doesn’t mean that I am not capable of doing simple tasks; I might even have a better idea. Then I realized that I was practically begging for more work. I don’t want to be old if that means I have to know everything. I don’t want to be old if that means doing more work. I am pretty scared of my late thirties, why would I rush? If I had known this fifteen years ago, I would have procrastinated even more, as if that had been possible.
I’ve fallen for this age limit line for the last time. My mother told me that she was finally taken seriously at thirty-three years old. I made it, older than Jesus; and still I have not lost the witty predicament where I am forced to plead that I AM OLD ENOUGH!!! If you think I am too young to do something THEN DO IT YOURSELF. Stop telling me about how old you are. I get it; even at nearly thirty-five I am not capable of leading a group of my elders to improve anything. Thirty’s the new twenty, I got it! Hopefully when the time comes, I will be old enough to shovel the dirt onto your grave. (That may be a little harsh, but what do I know? I am young! Yippeee!)
Mishaps Today 