Are we grown ups? This question has been nagging me over the last year. I live on my own, have a  job, and don’t get an allowance. Growing up, that always seemed like the definition of adulthood, but now that I can check all of those boxes, I’m not so sure. I’ve been asking this question quite a bit and have gotten some fantastic responses. My two favorites:

My mom: “I knew I was an adult when I could eye the leftovers and know, on the first try, which Tupperware container to use.”

My roommate: “You’re a grown up when you know when Labor Day is. I don’t mean you know the month, I’m talking the DATE.”

I’m all ears to hear what my readers think qualifies someone as an adult. My good friend and constant provider of fodder for this blog once asked me “when are we too old to get blackout drunk?” In her own way, I think she was asking essentially the same question I am.

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