I think my parents know I'm growing up. And not just because I can now buy my mother a drink, or go and drink with my dad up the pub but because I'm relating things back to my childhood and more often than not they find me conversing back about the future.
I mean whilst, yes I still have some childish dreams the majority of things I want to do are things that I wouldn't have though of a year ago.
List of Childish dreams (which my mother doth oft laugh at):
*Go on the XFactor, even if it's a fix. I'd like to sing in front of people but I'd like to just know if I can sing more than anything.
**Go to Florida and ask Peter Pan if I can join the lost boys.
***Watch all of W.I.T.C.H  once more.
****Play Chubby Bunny with normal sized marshmallows.
*****Also play jenga with more people than myself.
******Complete a game of monopoly without cheating or giving up halfway through.
*******Go outside of Lara's House in a Tomb Raider game when I'm playing it. (My dad played it through the first time so I could watch to make sure nothing bad happened and my mum shouted out cheats for ammo)

Now though I've started to think:
*What is it I want to do exactly.
**How long and how much money would I have to save in order to move out and either into a flat or apartment.
***I need to take up my driving lessons again. And Pass.
****I need a car.
*****I should look at night school courses for things that I could put on my CV.
******What I want for my future.

And my parents have started to notice it and the conversations usually go into ones I'd never dream of having.
I can go from which 1D boy I find cute to which area would have the cheapest rent but still be aesthetically pleasing.

But my parents are starting to take me serious to. Gone are the days where I come home point to my face and exclaim " I want here, here and here pierced" or "I want to dye my hair black and put bright blue streaks in it" and just get a verbal list of 50 reasons why I should never have asked in the first place, but the other day I mentioned that I wanted a tattoo. Nothing huge. Or fancy. Or Explicit. I just wanted something simple and small on my wrist. A mark of my childhood. And my parents sat down and we've talked about it. And went through pro's and cons. And when I mentioned I wanted it for my birthday they were a little startled but when I told them the design my dad got it straight away and my mum didn't take much convincing after.
It's from a childhood story my dad made up and I hope to tell my children (if I have any) with a few adjustments here and there, but it wasn't the princess and prince. The heroic battle and the happily ever after.
It was about 3 Lizards. Who had to leave their home come the monsoon season. And they travelled far and wide. Before coming across the men, the volcano and the skunkmonkeys. If there's anyone who can tell a story it's my dad. Reading the first Harry Potter books just isn't the same without his voices.

Here's where it goes to hell in a hand basket. And I start  to cry ramble.
If there's one thing which never plagued my mind quite as much as it tends to now is my dad.
I'm not sure if you're, whoever may read this, is aware but my dad has heart disease.
Hereditary heart disease.
His Father had it.
My Father has it.
But it could be passed down through either gender.
Which means my brothers could have it.
Or I could.
Or we could pass it down to our children.
We have to all get checked when we reach 25.
And then again at 50.
I guess the one thing that never leaves my head is the thought Please don't take my daddy away which I guess is normal for any child to think but shouldn't be thought.
Because even though it won't happen now doesn't mean it might not be this year or the next year.
It could be 10 years from now and I wouldn't be ready.
His father died when he was 55. But He smoked and drank a fair bit so I'm told.
My dad doesn't smoke, and as far as drinking goes it's only once a month do I see him with a glass of wine.
But he pushes himself far too hard.
And he knows he does it.
But He still doesn't stop it.
My dad is not invincible.
He is not a superhero.
But he is my dad.
And I don't know what I'll do without him.

Don't get me wrong, my mother is amazing.
Always has been, always will be.
No matter how many times she nags me to clean my room.
Or I nag her to clean my room.
And I swear my heart stopped the times she got into car accidents.
Or was sent into hospital.
She's still my mumma and I love her to bits.


So here's my what started good and ended bad ramble.
To which I will probably remove.
Or look back and chuckle at my emo-y sensibilities.
But right now I needed to ramble.
And If I can't ramble outloud to myself.
I'll ramble through words to you guys.
Lex
x