11 going on 30

True story. My 11-year-old cousin read me a "diary" (she insists it's a journal...but watevs) entry about what her life will be like when she'll be 30-years-old. Voila:

Yep, she'll be an actress living in a mansion, with 4 kids, in great shape, and be making $55 million--oh no scratch that (?!) $50,000 a year. To which I reply, "You'll be 30 in 18 years." Note: She turns 12 next month. To which she exclaims, "OMG! That's not that long!" And stares blankly in the distance as if the ghost of adult hoods past appeared before her.

"Guess how many years I have left?" I asked.
"2?!" in her squeaky pre-pubescent voice.
"Two and a half." I drummed up.
"NOOOOO!! I don't want you to be 30!" She exclaimed with genuine disappointment. Yes, disappointment.

"Oh wow. Really? Why don't you want me to be 30?" I said.

"No," in disappointment again. "I don't want to be 30 either! I just want to stay in my twenties."

"I don't think you're alone there kiddo." I said, "It'll be okay. Your life sounds like it will be pretty great at 30, so you'll be fine." Yes, I consoled a preteen on aging into her 30's today, whom was also unknowingly mocking me about my internal clock.

Cue eye roll to self. 


Also, we proceeded to draw comix of our inside jokes afterward. Little does she know how much fun she's having at 11, and how much fun I'm having with her. Yay! This is why I want to stay in Miami. Memories like this:

Her comic:

My comic (that's her on the left and me on the right. You can tell it's me from my fab reading material):

Family = awesome.

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