Why grow up?

Fairly often, I preface a thought with: When I grow up.

For instance yesterday while using the bathroom in Mom and Dad's, I though, "When I grow up, I am going to have a huge bathroom."

I have a better bathroom now in the new house. It is bigger, and will be better once I get used to it and get another grab bar and get the bidet hooked up.

The latter two should happen this week, the former when my stupid body figures things out.

But ... I am 40. I have probably lived half my life, maybe more. I am older than half the people in my office. Why don't I feel grown up at all?

(And it isn't the toys on my bed's headboard. Or the toys in the boxes that haven't come out yet. Those are just symptoms of my feeling like a kid.)

I think it is because lots of people do lots of things for me.

Mom helped me unpack some books and set up the aforementioned toys on the headboard. Dad makes me breakfast and lunch and drives me to work. My little sister lifted all the heavy boxes for me. This morning, she came and got my glasses, which I knocked on to the floor. Heck, my niece and nephew are at my beck and call if I need anything. So is my brother-in-law, though, if I ask for help I have to accept the mocking that comes with it.

All I really need to do in life is take care of Claren and myself. Everything else is taken care of.

Who needs to grow up then?