Graduating= Insta-Adult

I am here to disprove a common theory, a rumour if you will. You know the one:


Mix one cup of graduation, two teaspoons of diploma and add a dash of university acceptance, and BAM!
Instant Adult


I don't know where the common misconception came from, but I would like it to stop. Just because by some unknown force I was able to acquire an acceptance letter, does not mean I am about to drop my disney obsession, wear grown-up shoes and become an adult.


The last time I seriously tried to act like an adult, I was seven. My parents were out doing yard work and I decided not only was I parched, but ravenous as well. (Words brought to you by Sesame Street) I decided the only way to rectify the situation would be to make my family Kraft Dinner. Because I was an awesome kid who decided to feed not only myself, but my family as well.


So I got myself a pot and a wooden spoon, two instruments I had seen my mother use to make the fabulous dish that is KD. I put the pot on the stove and turned it on high (as I assumed one does when making macaroni). I then opened the box and poured out the contents in its entirety into the pot. I stirred once and then went to finish watching Stickin' Around, while my KD magically formed into edible food.


Really, I should not have been punished for this. How was a seven year old supposed to know that in order for something to boil there needed to be a liquid? How was I supposed to know the cheese packet needed to be opened to release its cheesy goodness? Is it so wrong that in my act of kindness I naively assumed that if I were to put it all in the pot and left it there, it would then turn into food?


Halfway into Rugrats, a displeasing smell entered my general vicinity. Though I was too enthralled to really worry or notice. Finally a shrill angry beeping sound exploded through the house and interrupted Tommy Pickles, forcing me into reality. Like FBI agents my parents busted through the doors. My father through the back screen door and my mother through the front. Both racing in to secure the safety of their darling child. I -being the innocent, exemplary, honest child I was, figured this would be a very good time to hide.


In hindsight, this probably wasn't my greatest plan. And I probably should have come out of hiding after the eighth time they called me. Probably. But at that point I was afraid for my life. Especially after my father finally got the smoke alarm to stop ringing and I heard my mother say: What is it with this kid and setting things on fire?! I should have cleared my name and told them of my good intentions. Plus that was only the second time I had accidentally set something on fire! That accusation hardly seemed fair!


In the end, the pot was salvaged, after many a srub-and-soak from my mother. Though to this very day you can see the effect I had on it. Since then I have never tried to act like an adult, or cook something in the kitchen ever again. Mostly.

If you look closely you can see the destruction.

Admittedly, there have been times that I do put a little effort into being adult-like. But those efforts are usually aborted or deteriorate before they have a chance to be aborted. Take starting my essay yesterday afternoon, I took all the necessary steps to beginning:

This is A, not really being a good example and texting when she should be studying for her Calculus Exam.

1. Went with a friend to the Quiet Room (Affectionately dubbed the Nap Room) 
2. Found a comfortable chaise lounge to sit and start
3. Pulled out my laptop and then....
4. Watched Hercules

Enjoying Disney movies with childlike abandon.

I am the living breathing proof, that all that go to university are not adult.

Theory Disproved.