On Monday I went to the DMV to renew my license and to register my U.S. car.

Rather, I was taken to the DMV by Bob. My parent and guardian.

Bob was kind enough to take time out of his schedule to drive me over there, since I couldn't drive my own car as the whole reason we were going was to register it and get a valid license.

Guys, I swear I was 16 years old that day.

Bob and Cathie are helpful people. They can't help but be helpful. They're not bossy. They're not know-it-alls. They just step in and help out whenever they see an opportunity.

That's exactly what happened at that DMV on Monday when Bob stepped up to the counter before I could, pointed at me, HIS TWENTY-EIGHT YEAR OLD SON WHO DOESN'T EVEN LIVE IN THE UNITED STATES, and said, "my son here needs to get his car registered. What do you need from us?"

I tried to intervene, but it was too late. This transaction was between Bob and the lady at the DMV at this point.

The lady asked Bob whether I had the documentation she needed. Bob, in fact, had it, and he handed it over. The two engaged in pleasant conversation as the transaction proceeded. I tried to get involved in at least the polite banter, but have you ever tried to inject yourself in a conversation with two people who don't care to include you?

Thanks a lot, Bob.

We then had to walk over to a different room to get the license situation figured out so on this one I thought I would get in first and make sure that the people knew that I could totally be a grown-up alls by myself. A grown-up who doesn't grow facial hair. And who is brought to the DMV by his dad.

But homegirl saw right through me and, I presume, couldn't take me seriously while a distinguished looking 60-year-old man stood next to me. So she directed her answers to my question to the both of us and the moment Bob spoke, I was cut out of the triangle of communication.

THERE WERE THREE PEOPLE STANDING THERE! Don't they know about the TRIANGLE of communication?! The triangle has THREE points. Where did these people get their bad public education anyway? The Queen of Colors School of Learning?

Whatever. Bob totally bought me ice cream on the way home for being so good at the DMV.

Am I alone in feeling like a teenager again every time I spend time with my parents?

~It Just Gets Stranger