The first stop we made was breakfast at a local diner. The waitress asked what I'd like to drink and I said, "Coffee." It was breakfast, after all, and I do love a good cup of coffee. After much indecision, BubTar settled on the chocolate milk. When our drinks arrived, and I looked down at that ceramic mug, it hit me. I am a grown up.
I have been married for seven years, a parent for six years, and a home owner for four years. I am, and have been, by all accounts (except perhaps age) an adult for quite a while, but somehow this single cup of coffee confirmed it.
I suppose we don't eat breakfast out very often, because we aren't really morning people in this house. I'm sure if we did make a habit of eating breakfast out of the house I'd have passed this particular milestone much earlier, but I hadn't. So here I sat, twenty-five years old, with a cup full of adulthood staring back at me. You see, I don't order coffee at restaurants, PARENTS do that. I order juice or Sprite or hell, even alcohol...but never a mug of coffee.
With each clink of the spoon, each trickling refill, each tearing of a sugar packet, I heard it...the echo of adulthood. Soon, I was distracted from my internal monologue when my son began crawling on the floor under our table and I heard myself say, "No sir. We sit in the booth, not on the floor." It was that sort of reflexive grown-up admonishment that bypasses my brain completely these days and I realized, I've been an adult all along, it just took seeing my reflection in a cup of diner coffee to finally realize it.