You've come to the annoying realization that your parents were right
about almost everything.

The bag boy volunteers to help load groceries into your car-in the
"ten items or less" lane.

You've stopped supporting your children, and started supporting your
parents.

You've found yourself discussing the weather.

You remember your kid's names, just not always the right one.

You have nightmares about forgetting to move the garbage cans to the
street for the garbage collector.

Your high school yearbook is now home to three different species of
mold.

You buy "age-defying" makeup and "anti-wrinkle" creams and believe they
work.

You've realized that all those geeky people in Bermuda shorts walking
around Disney World include you.

You recognize Led Zeppelin songs that have been turned into elevator
Muzak.

As a public service, you have agreed to never appear on the beach in a
Speedo again.

You've had three opportunities to buy every single Disney Animated
Classic-"for the last time in a generation"

You'd pay good money to be strip-searched.

Wal-Mart and Target seem to share your fashion sense.

The only way you know to stop a virtual pet from beeping involves the
patio and a sledgehammer.

You can pack two suits, Five shirts, five ties, five pairs of
underwear, five pairs of socks, a pair of shoes, and half of your
bathroom into a carry-on bag-in less than five minutes.

You know what Earth Shoes are.

You think if you hear "Stairway to Heaven" one more time your head will
explode.

Your weight-lifting program seems to have no effect on your muscles, but
the veins on the backs of your hands are bulking up quite nicely.

On Saturday night, when your wife mentions "hot oil, a little friction,
and squealing," you tell her you'll have the Cadillac looked at first
thing Monday morning.