Saturday night we got a sitter and went to friends for an adults-only bonfire. There were six of us outside- eating, drink and laughing probably louder then we should have at 10 at night. We were having a great time- not really worrying too much about bothering anyone because it was chilly out and most people had their windows closed.  About 5 minutes after we moved our party outside,we noticed a light bobbing its way towards us. We had no idea what it was- car backing into a drive way? Someone walking their dog? We didn’t pay it too much attention until we heard, “Excuse me folks, I’m Trooper Smith” and saw a State Trooper standing at the edge of the fire.

Afterwards we talked, and we realized that all our first reactions were to run.  Run like we were in high school, getting busted at an underage drinking party- just scatter because he can’t bust us all, right?! There is one of him and 6 of us- 5 of us were going to make it.  Never mind that we ranged in ages 33 through 36 and the Hubs is a cop- we all had to fight the urge to take off like bats out of hell.

Obviously we didn’t run and the trooper wasn’t there about us- he was checking on a neighbor who was in a car accident earlier in the day.  But we all had a long laugh after he left- I guess some instincts are just ingrained no matter how old you are.  That lead to a conversation about how old we feel. Like, when I think about myself, I don’t picture myself as 34- I picture who I was at 17.  Sometimes it still blows my mind that no one has taken our kids away because the Hubs and I aren’t old/mature enough to raise children.

The next day when we looked at the calendar, the Hubs noticed that we just passed our 10 year anniversary of moving back to NY from the DC area. The 17 year old in me was shocked at this- simply shocked. The 34 year old in me was too busy recovering from the bottle of wine and late bedtime from the night before to care.