Maybe Tomorrow I’ll Grow Up. Just Not Right Now.

In between two of the 87 bratty post-birthday meltdowns I had today, I warned Henry that there was something I had to tell him. I used one of several “This is serious” tones I’ve collected from years of Days of Our Lives viewing.

Henry was walking past me when this happened, so he slowed to a tentative stop and cautiously asked, “What?”

Now, this could go several ways. I could tell Henry I’m cheating on him. I could tell him I used a fork on one of his precious cooking pans. I could tell him I can’t wait for the 2012 Olympics  so I can take my no-holds-barred humanity heckling global. Nothing puts me in the mood for some ethnic bashing than some good old-fashioned synchronized swimming.

It was none of these things, though.

“Yesterday at the fair,” I started.

“Yeah?” Henry asked, his moustache bristling in trepidation.

I baited him slowly. “I did something.”

“What did you do?” Henry asked in an exhausted sigh, probably realizing that we weren’t together the whole time yesterday and bracing himself.

“Whenever I felt sad, I looked at a picture of Jonny Craig on my phone,” I admitted gravely.

Henry shook his head and continued on his march toward to the kitchen, bent out of shape that I wasted a whole minute of his life when he wasted my last ten years.

“And then it made me feel so not-so-sad!” I giddily called after him.

Right now, I am currently designing my own I <3 Jonny Craig t-shirt. I’m going to wear it to the mall and all the 15-year-old girls are going to want to sit by me in the food court.