I just did a test online (yep, one of those ones your mates send you, that you simultaneously think ‘this is such a waste of time’, whilst thinking ‘oh I have to do it, in case it’s really revealing / exciting/ revolutionary’ etc.) which tested your mental age.
I came out as 41. 41!! A mental age of a 41 year old?!
I have to admit, this surprised me. (by the way, I’m only 30. Not even remotely near 41 yet. Not that there is anything necessarily wrong with being 41, far from it. But I’m not, ok. Not even late 30s. 30. Just literally out of my 20s. Just wanted to emphasise that.)
I would have imagined, that given I am about as mature as a particularly childish teenager, that it would have been much lower.
The test asked questions such as:
1) ‘What do you think about iPads?’ (I answered c) cool – which apparently must have been a middle aged response.)
2) Do you think McDonalds is… (I answered b) disgusting. I would have thought this merely emphasised my angry vegetarian / anti corporate status, rather than a leaning towards middle-agedness.)
I pondered, after taking this test, whether actually, it had just asked the wrong questions. And I concluded that yes, it had. Here is my list of evidence that I am really rather more immature than the average 18 year old.
1) I think passing wind is funny.(both when I do it and when others do.)
2) I find it amusing to stick foam play letters on my son’s back in the bath, spelling out ‘lumps’ (it’s a nickname for him, I won’t go into it.) I also take a photo to keep for posterity. Poor DB2.
3) I enjoyed going to ‘The House of Marbles’ today and playing with the marble run more than my children did. I actually may have accidentally even pushed DB1 out of the way a bit to get another turn at chucking another marble down it. He is 2, by the way.
4) I like hiding things in OH’s sandwiches, in the hope that he will accidentally eat them when he is at work.Eg like paper and random chocolates. (not great in a cheese and ham sandwich.)
5) I find it hilarious to pinch OH’s hips, even though he is notoriously ticklish and HATES it. But honestly, it is so funny, he leaps about a foot in the air every time I do it…ha ha ha!
However, at other times, I suppose I do have a fairly old head on my shoulders. Eg, this afternoon was spent wading through creating invoices and going through the accounts for Pip’s Garden. I don’t think you get much more dull than that, do you? I think, with me, instead of the old ‘good angel / bad angel’ sitting on each shoulder, I have the ‘old, wise, Yoda-like angel’ vs the ‘criminally insane, hideously puerile angel’ on the other.
The dialogue between the two ‘angels’ would have read a little like this I think:
Yoda Angel: Ah yes. Complete accounts you must. For accounts are the pathway to a successful business, yes.
Puerile Angel: Ah, sod that. Let’s go and make cakes downstairs and make loads of excessive icing, cos icing is the best bit anyway.
Yoda Angel: No. Work you must. Strive to achieve and to conquer this task.
Puerile Angel: Nah. Don’t listen to that guy. He smells of wee. Come on, lets go and do something fun. Look, the boys are bored. BORED! I’m bored too. Come on!
Yoda Angel: Tally numbers against bank statement – path to true business enlightenment. Invoice to customers, route to good business relationship.
Puerile Angel: Jeez, seriously, don’t listen to him, he can’t even talk properly and he looks like a green walnut with excessive ears. Let’s go and play with the boys. Come on DB1 and DB2, lets chant til she gets off the computer. Play! Play! PLAY! PLAY!
At this point, I tend to give up. Puerile Angel tends to win most of the battles. Mainly though, because I can’t actually resist the sight of both my sons, gazing up at me imploringly like a pair of Disney puppies, all wide eyed and pleading. Darn it! I am a sucker for the old ‘puppy eye’ trick! And deep down, I like giving in to the boys’ demands, as it is much more fun! See, I am a complete child really…