Robin Abcarian: Don't grow all the way up, it's a trap!
The other night, after a long family dinner, my 13-year-old niece disappeared into our downstairs closet and soon reemerged with a box of toys I'd saved from my daughter Chloe's childhood. Chloe, who is now 31, was surprisingly happy.
"I want that," she said, reaching for a Furby. "That one too," she said, looking at a wooden Keith Haring dog that was once part of a red-and-yellow pull toy.
Was my grown-up, nurse practitioner daughter doing that thing called "kidulting"?
This portmanteau of
