Growing up is hard to do

In actual fact, I’ve long considered myself a bona fide adult. However, for the past few days I’ve been in Toronto for business while also visiting family and I was reminded of how perceptions vary depending on the eyes of the beholder though. For instance, my parents dropped me off at the swanky Intercontinental Hotel after I had stayed with my sister for a few nights. At the hotel, the doorman came to claim my baggage while I thought I was saying my good-byes to my mom and dad.

Um, no.

My mom had visions of the first day of Kindergarten all over again whereby she had to protect her offspring by insisting to the doorman that she accompany me and ensure my reserved room hadn’t been given away. There’s no arguing with the woman. She may be tiny but she’s also tenacious.

Then, while saying our goodbyes she managed to sneak a wad of cash into my coat pocket.

Even though I’m fairly certain she remembers I’m in my thirties, am married, holding down a steady job, have travelled to various parts of the world, she also knows I don’t get to Toronto that often. Likewise they don’t get out to Halifax that much either. So, I had to let her have her mom moment because growing up is sometimes harder on the people who brought you up.