Oh, and we also told her that there was a tiny gnome at the M&M factory who hand-paints the Ms on the candies!
Heck, I know we’re too immature to have a kid, but we had MilliCal anyway. It means that we can’t get away with playing “Paradise by the Dashboard light” in the car as much as we used to, and our sex lives are severely restricted by when she goes to sleep (she’s staying up later and later. She reads by flashlight after the lights officially go out, which is what I used to do. Heredity.).
But nothing can make up for those moments you don’t expect, like when she wandered down to where I was watching Pompey getting his head cut off during Rome last night, which lead to a discussion of Caesar and Roman History, and i learned that she knew all about how Cleopatra died, even though we didn’t tell her.
Or when she disappeared down the stairs with an armload of magazines and books.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a Waiting Room.”
Sure enough, when we went down she had a Waiting Room laid out, with a Sign-In Book on a Posium, I.D. Badges, and magazines on a table in a fanfold. I had to get an ID badge to take out the laundry.
One time! Only once, and I didn’t drive away! I remembered before the car was even in drive!
(There are some things one should never admit to on a message board, eh Hal?)
Actually, I feel like this all the time, mostly when I’m supposed to be disaproving but inside I’m laughing my ass off. Just yesterday, my neice (2 and a half) was being an absolute terror to her mother over dinner. After much pointless cajoling to eat her pizza, the little darling, who normally is quite hard to understand, said clear as a bell: “Mommy, you’re an idiot!”
I about burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh out loud. It summed up nicely what I had been thinking.
I also find it hard to prostyletize the goodness that is vegetables when in reality, I want to skip ahead to the ice cream myself.
And don’t get me started on getting rid of creepy-crawlies. Outside, I’m all calm and capable, when inside I’m feeling “EEEW EEEEW EEEEW!!! BUG! IT’S A MOTHERFREAKING BUG!!! COOTIES!!!”
Okay, MilliCal is officially my favorite kid ever.
And WhyNot, my mom once let my little brother play in his room (at age 1 1/2) with the windows open, only to return and find he’d crawled out on the roof.
We’re not allowed to tell that story. But she doesn’t know I post here. 
E.
I think asking the question means you are looking at your behavior/thoughts and are questioning how appropriate they are for your kid. That you are asking the question means to me you are mature enough.
TO fit in with the vibe of thread: Been known to jazz up a boring camping trip with ghost stories and sudden, screaming, jumps out of the darkness into the firelight (and the younglings like that as much as me/in a different way – sort of)
I feel that way at least three times a week. Which shocks me as I’m thirty-five. I’d have thought there was a point in time where the maturity button would just switch to permanent on mode but sometimes it gets stuck.
I can’t fanthom those who have children young. How do they do it?
I’m 32, my wife’s 34.
One of our cats has had surgery on his knee last Wednesday, and will need to be in a cage the next 4 to 6 weeks. Neck collar and all.
Considering the anguish and stress this gives us, we’re not ready for human kids until 2075 I think. 
Too immature? No.
Too terrified? Definitely.
42? Yes. Too immature? Yes. I can barely deal with work and the responsibilities supporting myself at the moment, let alone supporting entire other people.
I will say that, if I ever do have kids, I will definitely mean it. None of this ‘just because someone else is doing it’ stuff. I would want to be in there, looking in their eyes and warping their little minds…
I do that daily. What makes me giggle is when I can get LilMiss 2-3 times in a row.
A few weeks ago we had a massive storm here in the Twin Cities. We drove right into it from her music lessons. Tornado sirens wailing, black skies, horrendous winds, torrential rains - and I remained calm. Got home, lit candles, watched the plastic heads telling us to head to the basement - and I calmly suggested we do that, gathering up the cats and a few belongings. LilMiss was freaking out, crying and shaking (she’s seen first hand what tornados can do and she’s gained a healthy respect for Ma Nature). After it all blew over she asked me how I stayed calm. I dunno - you just do. It’s not a choice, is it? I do know that if I was alone I would have been scared, but with her there I couldn’t.
I’ll be the first to say I am not the most mature person around (She says wearing her Happy Bunny “I’m not mean, you’re just a sissy” t-shirt), but not completely growing up isn’t a bad thing, is it?
Too immature to be a parent? Without a doubt!
My son turned 31 this year. My grandson is 15 months old.
I’m immature enough to be a granny though!
I’m pretty sure that, if monsters got into our apartment, the Neville kitties would hunt them, and probably leave bits of them in my shoes as a present. So I’m not scared of monsters any more since I got cats.
I got the cats when I was 29…
I’m absolutely way too immature to be a parent, as my 15 year old constantly reminds me.