I’ve come to believe that one of the defining moments of adulthood is the moment at which we recognize our parents as the overgrown children we all are, running around and reacting to each other as we learned to from our parents. Enacting our oldest child or baby of the family roles, our good girl and troubled child titles. Proving over and over that we are either the pieces of shit our parents resented and could not raise or the angels they adored who could do no wrong.
