You said, “I want you to come with me, down a path and to a fork in the road. Think about this very seriously because it’s important.”

I thought. And I said, “Yes.”

We reached the cross roads. You closed your eyes, put your fingers in your ears and jumped up and down yelling, "I don't want to grow up! I won't ever grow up!" But you were so stubborn that you wouldn't even stop for one moment to see that I had not, in fact, abandoned you but had been casually sitting against the sign post waiting for you to calm down.

Then a lady came by and, observing the outward manifestation of our situation, said, “You know, he’s not really there.”

And I looked at you dramatically jumping up and down and said, “Um, I’m pretty sure he’s still there.”

And she said, “No he’s not.”

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t stop for just one moment to refute her, so I was forced to concede her point. You weren't really there.

So I got up, and walked away.