If you ask my daughter, I am an overgrown child and need to be supervised. I should not be allowed out of the house with socks visible above the line of my shoe -- never mind I'm wearing jeans and no one can tell if I even have socks on or not. And O-M-G I'm not going to wear that to the store am I?
You get the picture.
Some of the censure is well-deserved though. For instance, I'm a puddle splasher.
When I was a kid, I'd ride my bike through puddles and watch the water fling in a hundred different directions at once. I would swing barefoot and drag my feet through the mud puddle under the swing. Yeah, I always had to take a bath afterwards, but it was so much FUN.
My puddle-playing days didn't end when I traded the bike in for a car, though. I love to drive through puddles that accumulate along the curb on rainy days and splatter water all over the windshield.
This drives said daughter crazy. Not sure why, but it does.
A few years back daughterling and I were headed out for the afternoon. It'd had been raining most of the day, but had momentarily stopped. I saw one beautiful pool of rainwater after another along the edge of the road. Some I couldn't get because of stop signs or cars parked in the way. You have to hit the puddles at the right speed or they won't splash properly, you see.
But then there was a perfect puddle. I swerved to the right and accelerated just enough. The splash was magnificent. It coated the windshield and sprayed everywhere.
And that's when I noticed the pedestrian I'd soaked.
Daughterling nearly died from embarrassment.