I have a favor to ask. Would you mind waiting another year or so before taking my childhood card and swapping it for the adult version? You see, I'm not quite ready to grow up yet. Growing up means getting a real job—one that puts me on the "career track." Growing up means business casual: suits, shirts, ties, shiny (close-toed) shoes, and dress pants. Growing up means facing the cold harsh reality of bills and taxes and only ever seeing half of my paycheck. Growing up means giving up sleeping past ten, wearing pjs in public, mid-afternoon naps, and all the stupid-really-fun things you did when you were "twenty-one bitches!"

Part of me understands that we're all forever children at heart but the other half just isn't able to comprehend the concept of this whole getting older thing. Getting older means change. It happened from middle school to high school and again for the big move to college. Graduation means the change train is rolling into the station again. Even before the cap and gown, change starts knocking in the back of your mind, banging around thoughts about jobs, money, and moving into your own place. For me, it isn't so much the fear of getting old it's the fear of the unknown.

Adulthood is full of new, scary, exhilarating, and sometimes heartbreaking things. All of which no one knows until they experience them. With adulthood comes an entire new language with words like LinkedIn, taxes, and lease to rent. Being an adult doesn't just effect the work front, it also brings change to your personal life. When the kids become the adults the family dynamic changes. It's no longer acceptable to tickle your brother until he can't breathe on the living room floor—not that it ever really was. Your parents either sparing pour you wine with dinner like you're not quite legal or they buy you your own bottle and tell you "bottoms up!"

Sometimes I may think senioritis has afflicted me before I've even officially taken any of my senior classes, yet in no way am I ready to be tossed into the shark-ridden sea of adulthood. So, please, if you have any sympathy or if you understand my plight at all, don't make me grow up quite yet. Give me a little more time to enjoy spontaneous weeknights downtown with friends, swear off alcohol the next morning, kiss more frogs before finding "the one", wear jeans with holes in the knees, sleep in, take naps, and drink out of Capri Suns before you introduce the concept of adulting.

If I promise that next time you come knocking I'll be ready can we strike a deal? I know I can't wait forever but I'd love to wait a little longer. I used to pray for time to speed up so I could drive and test out blush and mascara. Now I wish time could slip into slow motion for a while so I can enjoy these last few moments where the expectations and looming shadow of the future aren't upon me yet.

I promise you can have me when I'm ready. I'm just not ready yet.