"Graveyard!"

   As we got closer to the cemetery we drew in our breaths and held them until we'd passed on down the road.  The we let our breaths out and began to breathe normally, once again safe and know that we'd thwarted the plans of the zombies and ghosts and other undead spirits.
   This was a game we played as kids.  We would hold our breaths as we passed a graveyard, believing that by doing so the undead spirits (especially the bad ones) would not know we were alive and therefore not follow us or, worse, get inhaled into our bodies to possess us.
   Boy, we had macabre imaginations back then!
   I taught this to my kids.  And today, as we approached the city cemetery along 6th Street, I interrupted our conversation and exclaimed, "Graveyard!"
   We sucked in our breaths and waited until we passed.  After we got past I had a moment of maturity flash into my head and I said, "Aren't I a little too old for this?  I mean, technically I'm a adult and should be mature but now."
   "No, Dad," piped up Tyler.  "Technically, you're an adult.  Mature...not so much."
   The little wise guy!  Okay, he did have a point of sorts.  I suppose theoretically I should behave as a mature adult, but that doesn't mean I do.  I want to see where in the rules it says I have to be mature.  It's scary to think what I'll be like when I'm 70, or 90, or beyond.     
   It's gonna be fun, though!