I used to worry about growing up. I remember the first time it hit me, when I was in tenth grade Consumer Economics class, and we were play-acting where we would be in six years. I realized that in six years, I would presumably be graduating from college and having to find my first real job, and it freaked me out.

I shouldn't have worried, and neither should you. Growing up just sort of happened to me without my even realizing it. Or rather, I realized it was happening, but it happened very slowly and I (mostly) enjoyed it.

Now I find myself sitting here, with my wife running back and forth between the kitchen and the living room trying to watch TV and make peanut butter cookies at the same time. My two sons, aged six and two, are upstairs in their beds. We're on our second car, our second house (fifth or sixth "home"), and I'm on my fifth employer. My graduation from college was over eight years ago; I'm on the flip side from tenth grade and wondering how did it go by so fast.

I'll probably still be wondering that when I'm Howard's age.

Gri"dude, you're wierding me out"shny