At the age of 21, I have what I think is a pretty cool list of things that I hope to do before I die. I want to go backpacking with my friends across America, I want to arrive at my wedding on an elephant, I want to learn how to make something cooler than cereal; I know, it's all very ambitious. I was perfectly happy with my list, until I realized that my mom, too, has a list of things that she thinks I want to do–but the contents are very different than mine. She thinks I want to put my fingers into electrical sockets. She thinks I want to draw on walls, and she has put rules into place so that I do not do these things. I know what you're thinking: my mom's version of my bucket list is way cooler than anything that I could have ever come up with on my own. Here is a snippet of that list, a compilation of 11 things my mom thinks I've always wanted to do.

1. Play with the stove.

She always says, right before she leaves the house "And don't play with the stove," as though the moment she turns her back, I'll run to the kitchen and start meddling with the gas.

2. Become one with the TV.

I like TV. I'm aware of my addiction. That's the first step, right?

3. Run around with a pair of scissors.

She has instilled rules for whenever I carry this particular item of stationery.

I must always hold the pair of scissors with the blade side concealed within my palm.

I must always walk slowly when holding a pair of scissors.

I must always hand over the pair of scissors with my right hand. I don't understand this last rule either. It's as though she thinks my left hand would go rogue, were it in charge.

4. Jump off a bridge, or a cliff, with <insert best friend's name here>.

"Why did you do it?"

"She was doing it, too."

"Oh, so if she jumps off a bridge, will you?"

"Maybe. Sounds like fun."

5. Have the family reunion in my bedroom.

When relatives come over, my mom ups her cleaning game, and I'm fine with that. It only starts to bother me when she insists that my room be spotless and pristine, as though it is the chosen room that will host the family gathering this year.

6. Cross the road without looking both ways.

It's become somewhat of an anthem, now. To this day, before we cross the road together, she will hold my hand and chant "Look to the left, look to right, look to the left again AND CROSS."

7. Borrow something and not put it back exactly where I got it from.

I get a kick out of leaving things where they shouldn't be now, and it's the strangest thing to get a kick out of doing. I deliberately left a pen on a kitchen tray the other day instead of putting it back on her table. Goosebumps. It felt good.

8. Get more piercings and color my hair as an outward sign of my inner turmoil.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, mom."

" Baby, not if the cover has HOLES IN IT."

9. Drive away with her car when she tells me to wait for her to grab something from the store.

She will park, turn to me, squint her eyes and say "Don't. Touch. Anything."

I make my vow of obedience, and she leaves. And then I fiddle with the A.C. settings. I know, I'm a wild one. I can't be tamed. I can't be blamed.

10. Eat more when I say that I'm full.

She firmly believes this one. Whenever we visit friends and family, it is custom to be offered food and drink. I always respond politely and try what they put on the table. It only takes 10 minutes before they ask if I want more, at which point I'll begin to say "No, thank you", but be interrupted by my mom exclaiming "Of course she will!" as she serves me another two platefuls.

11. Steal her closet.

This one is true. This is definitely something I have always wanted to do.