Youth is wasted

I’ve never really spent a lot of time around small children.  Until I was seventeen, I was the youngest member of my family that I saw on even a remotely frequent basis.  I don’t know how to talk to them.  I spent my entire life trying to be more grown up so I could be around the rest of the family.  Yeah, I have a brother who’s a couple years older than me, but that only served to further facilitate my maturation.  I would do anything I could not to seem young.  I’d steer clear of toys and clothing styles that would label me an obvious child.  Though, if you look at pictures of me growing up, it didn't always work.  

 I always tried to appear older than I was.  In grocery stores, if, for some reason, I had one of my parent’s car keys, I wouldn’t pocket them.  I would spin them around my finger hoping some cute girl would see me and think I could drive.  I could have been as young as twelve but I thought I might be able to pull it off.  I couldn’t have.  It never worked.  Even if it would have, we would have gotten to the parking lot and I would have had to explain to her why I led her to believe I could drive just so she could laugh at my age and my dad’s Chevy Tracker.