Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up

Sometimes, however, when you make an impromptu trip to the grocery store at 11 pm with your roommate that includes the following:

1) Truly excessive use of the word butthole

2) Embracing and laughing hysterically over a comparison between James Dean and Jimmy Dean sausage

3) Going to the grocery store for ice cream and coming back with the most typical poor college girl's shopping bag ever (milk. diet tonic water. ice cream. pop tarts. lean pockets. toaster waffles. etc.)

It takes the sting out.

It's funny; every time I'm at the grocery store now I remember being a little kid and looking with longing at the foods I always WANTED, but that my parents would never, in a million years, have agreed to buy. I remember, as I'm sure everyone does, being, say, 9 and vowing to myself that when I could shop on my own, I would buy all manner of delicious sugary goodies and junk foods without impeding the need for vegetables and sugar-free cereals.

As it turns out, of course, I rarely buy these things - the most "rebellious" I get is to buy pints of Ben and Jerry's, Nutella, and sometimes tortilla chips. Oh, and reduced fat Cheese-Its. Not exactly the stuff of small-child legend. Tonight I fixed myself a dinner of boxed Kraft mac and cheese, but I paired it with sauteed yellow squash and asparagus with fresh garlic. And I liked it. And okay yes, I chased it with ice cream but it was froyo.

Grocery shopping, when I leave with bags mostly full of veggies and uncooked meats to prepare and plain pasta and healthy-ish foods to try and eat on the go during my insanely busy existence, becomes an act that generally makes me acutely aware that I am, in fact, in a small way, becoming a grown up.

But I did buy POP TARTS tonight on our PathMark adventure. Score one for my inner child.