I won't grow up

When you're with your parents, do you revert to angsty teenager mode, even if you never were one? Do you find that all your worst qualities emerge from hiding: you're impatient, you're easily irritated, and snide comments fly out of your mouth before you can stop them? Are you suddenly unable to hold a civilized conversation, the kind without eye rolling or heavy sighing? Do you feel underappreciated, like nobody understands you, or listens to you, or cares what you have to say? Or do you feel a total lack of privacy, that everyone has an opinion about your life and it's nobody's business but yours and PLEASE could you just leave me alone and let me have my space YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!?!

No?

Yeah, me neither.

Ahem.

But this weekend felt somehow different. It's taken a long time (I'm 28 years old, after all), but it would appear that I have done some growing up. Oh, I still have my moments, have no doubt. I can be snotty and thoughtless and cruel, and my mom and I know each other's buttons so well we can play whole accordion tunes on them from memory. Over the last few days, though, I had lots and lots of normal adult conversations with my parents. I paid for meals and groceries so they didn't have to. My dad and I took charge of dinner one night, and I found a recipe for mussels, and we cooked them together. And beyond all of that, I was pleasant approximately 85% of the time.

See, some people may quantify growing up as holding down a steady job, or buying real estate, or having kids of their own. Me? I'll take it as a major milestone that I spent 4 days being nice to my parents—no yelling, hardly any crying, and no slamming of doors.

I'm shooting for 90% on the next visit.