I bought a larger dish rack, and couldn't wait to get home to use it. Just the thought of being able to dry more dishes got me excited. And that's when I realized that I've been infected with adulthood.
Older woman saw my baby's blue blanket and concluded "Mommy must've wanted a boy." Despite her superior power of deduction, her observation skill sucked because she failed to notice the pink toque, which, in combo with the blanket, clearly indicated my desire for a hermaphrodite.
I'm at the age where I'm old enough not to want much for my birthday, yet young enough to want the older generation to stop calling me to wish me a happy birthday because I hate phone calls.