How To: #Becominganadulttips – 4

The things you never knew you needed to know…

Becoming an adult is a troublesome process. Few people make it out of adulthood alive. Whether you’re scraping twenty-one or hitting forty, there is always another mistake you didn’t know you needed to make as part of your overall growing process. Basically, this is a compilation of things you didn’t know you needed to know. I’ve done the research, the groundwork and a lot of really stupid sh** so that you don’t have to. From paddling pools to pirate costumes, achieving adult status is not always what it seems…

Tip #4 – Paddling pools, a lesson in escapism

My friends and I are just at that stage where kids are on the horizon. They’re not here yet, but give it a few years and we’ll be inundated with half-pint tyrants.

This is both exciting and deeply, deeply terrifying. Adulthood marches on, bringing with it jobs, rent, utility bills and actual hangovers that last two days and make you want to take a voluntary lobotomy. We already begin sentences with “when I was young” and more often than not end them with, “kids these days are wankers” and, quite frankly, I quit.

I’m opting out. If responsibility means peeling soiled nappies off the walls and using a range of increasingly absurd euphemisms to explain human genitalia to small people, then it’s just not all it’s cracked up to be. Anyone who tells me otherwise can’t be my friend anymore.

Enter, the Paddling Pool. Oh, Steve, I hear you say (I can’t think why you keep calling me Steve, it’s a little weird) those are for children, maybe you can get away with playing with them in a responsible manner once you have a few kids, but right now it’s just a bit sad. But I put it to you that the assumption that paddling pools should be reserved for children is cruel and discriminatory.

stormtroopers-in-the-pool

There is nothing better that filling up a paddling pool, cracking open a can of cider, sitting in the sun (or the British equivalent known as “slightly fewer clouds”), hell even sitting in the sodding rain and basking in the mere fact that you are now old enough to appreciate the real joy of this wonderful invention. We might not all be able to embark on our own Motorcycle Diaries to avoid the inevitable procreative period, but when it comes to escapism, a lazy Sunday spent outside, nipple deep in lukewarm water, book in hand, is quite a happy equivalent.

My lesson today, then, is that no matter how old you are, there is always space in your life for a paddling pool. My one caveat, however, is that saying to your hot student neighbours “hey girls, any time you want to use our paddling pool, feel free” is unacceptably creepy. To be honest though, you won’t need to. Once word gets around you’ll be beating them off with a stick.

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