On Growing Up

So I am thirty-one as of yesterday. The first question my wife asked was: Do you feel older?
Not really, you know? Although she did find a couple of white hairs on my chest. And how does that make me feel? Truth be told, I don't know.

See, here's the thing. I complain a lot about getting older, but I still don't really feel like a grown-up. I should. I know that I should. And sometimes I guess I do. Depends, I suppose, who I am talking to. I do have a tendency to refer to people more than a couple of years younger to me as "kids." But I still don't feel like an adult. Why?

I bet if I were to get over that, to start feeling grown-up, I might actually start to act like one once in awhile. Sure would help me be a more effective leader in my home. I just don't know if I'm ready to cross that threshold all the way. I guess I figure once both feet on on the ADULT side of the door, there's no going back. Just call me Peter Pan, I guess.