There are moments in life when you look around for the responsible adult in the room, only to realize that everybody else is looking at you. This is a particularly disturbing development because I was under the impression that somebody else had been handling that responsibility for the last fifty something years. Apparently, at some point, I was promoted without being notified, trained, or even asked if I wanted the position. I would like to speak to whoever made that decision because I have some concerns about their hiring practices.
Some things really should require adult supervision. Fireworks, power tools, complicated electrical projects, and apparently any situation where somebody says, “Hey, I wonder what would happen if…” The problem is that nobody ever specified what qualifies a person to provide that supervision. Is there a test? A certification? Do you have to demonstrate good judgment for a certain number of consecutive days? Because if that’s the case, I may have a problem. I’ve been making decisions for myself for decades, and there are still occasions when I think the best way to determine whether something is a good idea is to try it and see what happens.
The really unfortunate part is that I know better. That’s what makes this whole adulthood thing so irritating. I can recognize a questionable decision from a considerable distance. I can even explain, in great detail, why something probably isn’t going to work. But there’s this other part of my brain that immediately wants to know why it won’t work. And suddenly I’ve gone from being a perfectly reasonable person to somebody standing in my workspace holding two things that were never intended to be connected.
This is particularly problematic when you enjoy tinkering with things. I’ve written about that before in Tinker. There’s a certain satisfaction in figuring out how something works, especially when you can improve it. Unfortunately, my definition of improvement occasionally includes taking apart something that was working just fine five minutes earlier. A responsible adult would probably leave it alone. I, on the other hand, see an opportunity for personal growth, usually followed by several hours of troubleshooting and some colorful language.
And then there’s the matter of being a parent. I spent years teaching my boys about making good decisions, considering consequences, and not doing stupid shit just because it sounded entertaining. All perfectly reasonable advice, by the way. I stand behind every word of it. What I didn’t anticipate was that they’d eventually become adults themselves, capable of recognizing when their father might be operating outside the guidelines he spent years establishing. There’s something deeply unfair about the possibility of your own children looking at you like you’re the one who needs supervision. Especially when you remember some of the things they did growing up. I feel like there should be a statute of limitations on this sort of thing.
Of course, being an adult does come with certain privileges. I can stay up as late as I want, eat whatever sounds good, and spend my own money on things that serve absolutely no practical purpose. Nobody can tell me I can’t have ice cream for dinner. The downside is that the same idiot who decided ice cream was an acceptable dinner is also responsible for getting up and functioning the following morning. Childhood really was a much better arrangement in that respect. Somebody else handled the consequences, and all I had to do was complain about the rules.
I’ve even considered whether I should occasionally ground myself. The problem is figuring out what that would accomplish. Send me to my room? Excellent. That’s where the computers are. Take away my toys? You’ll need to be more specific because at this point practically everything I own qualifies. Tell me I can’t go anywhere? Fine, I’ll stay home and work on one of the seventeen projects I’ve started and haven’t finished. Honestly, grounding me sounds suspiciously like a vacation.
Maybe that’s the part nobody explains about growing up. You don’t suddenly become immune to bad ideas. You just become responsible for the cleanup. And if you’re lucky, you get to keep enough of that mischievous kid inside you to occasionally do something ridiculous simply because it makes you laugh.
I suppose I should make an effort to behave more like a responsible adult. Maybe exercise a little restraint, think things through, and stop treating every questionable idea as an invitation to experiment.
I’ll give it some thought.
Right after I find out what happens if I push this button.