Last month I said a fond goodbye to my 20s and began life as a 30-year-old.
But as I reached this milestone I began wondering if we ever really become a grown-up, or are we always children at heart?
For example, take the weekly supermarket shop.
When you’re pushing the trolley do you, from time to time, lift your feet off the floor and whizz down the aisle when nobody is looking while using your voice to make the sound you might hear on the grand prix circuit?
When you’re in the bathroom and the mirror steams up, are you tempted to draw a smiley face?
And do you still race to do things first, like pressing the button at the pelican crossing before that person on the other side of the road, or being the first person to get into the lift?
Of course, I do all of these things.
But I only do them when I’m in the company of my daughters.
I would never, ever do them if I was on my own.