It’s hard to identify what a decade is about when you’re in the midst of it, but oh-so-easy after they’re over.

The ‘70s didn’t know they’d be remembered for their Disco and groovy polyesters. The ‘80s didn’t imagine we’d mostly recall their patchy vests and Duck Head shorts. And the ‘90s had no idea we would think of them and reminisce on the beautiful days of music.

Okay maybe I’m biased.

However, I believe I have cracked the case on what the twenty-teens will be remembered for.

Their ability to narcissistically turn every happening into a massively overblown moment.

“Oh, in the 90’s, y’all just asked people to prom? Well then. We will hire a skywriter or ask on the Jumbotron or (Dear God please no) get a tattoo to ask our girlfriend to prom.”

(That’s right. As if their girlfriend needed them to get a tattoo to invite her to an event for which she full well knows she will be invited to. I mean, if you’re inviting the super hot girl you’ve never even spoken to, get a tattoo. But if you’re inviting the girl you’ve been dating since your freshman year, a note card and perhaps a small bouquet will suffice.)

The twenty-teens also have a penchant for taking things that are typically considered mundane or undesirable and turning them into a FREAKING EVENT.

This is the generation of rainbow-dyed armpit hair, purposefully squiggly eyebrows, nose hair extensions, selfie nails, and of course, glitter pits.

Another aspect where turning a mundane thing into an event occurs is within the term “Adulting.” Let’s stay un-grown-up even when we’re definitely supposed to be grown up and then groan about it being extremely difficult when we have to, say, pay our car payment or, maybe have a job, or, heaven forbid, LOAD THE DISHWASHER.

The agony.

It’s totally chic.

This digital generation is but a season away from professional photoshoots of scented divorce papers being served in hot air balloons. And life-sized body cakes served in chilled coffins alongside the IRL caskets of loved ones. (Of course, all perfectly filtered for the ‘gram.)

So it makes total sense that these kids who were promposed to and attempt to do as little adulting as possible would invent the trend of Adult  Cake Smashes.

Just search the hashtag #adultcakesmash on Instagram if you want to feel better about your life.

I’m not going to show you multiple photos of this event because I really want you to go yourself, check it out, mouth agape, accidentally drooling on your iPhone.

But allow me to describe some of the trends within this trend for you, just to whet your appetite. Or bile.

So the idea is to take the ubiquitous one-year-old photo op that we all had and turn it into something for a twenty-something (or even thirty-something) year old woman (or, in rarer but still existing cases, man. Yes, man.)

There are almost always tutus, booze, and sparkles involved in these pictures. They’re the foundation that the A.C.S. is built on.

From the foundation, you can build your Smashing Good Time via two main paths.

….1. You can go the Cutesy Little Girl way, and give yourself pigtails, have a chalkboard stating how many months old you are, what your favorite candy is, and what you want to be when you grow up. This option can also include a tiara, much pink icing, and maybe even a hobby horse and/or Barbies.

….2. Or you can take the Super-Sexed-But-Trying-To-Act-Like-I-Always-Look-Like-This route, where you want to familiarize your Instagram followers with every aspect of your over-glittered body, all while having the expression of innocence and naïveté on your face that says “Oh, it’s sexy when I’m wearing nothing above the waist except strategically placed icing? I had NO idea – I was just trying to recreate my one-year-old photos!”

(Yes. I did see that specific photoshoot while researching for this post. I am not exaggerating.)

But to pull off the Super-Sexy A.C.S, you don’t have to be completely nude – no need to put the future of your Instagram account in danger. Instead, try wearing a gold sparkle bodysuit, perhaps. Or mermaid shells are always a nice touch.

(If you’re a dude, your choices are much more straightforward. You just have to decide if you want a hamburger-shaped cake or Star Wars Death Star cake. And what kind of beer you want next to your cake while you’re smashing yourself into it.)

Once you decide whether you’re going Cutesy or Sexy or Dude, you then must decide how much icing you want on your face. Do you want to look as if you head-butted your cake, spreading the actually-carefully-placed-icing all the way to your forehead and creeping into your hairline? Or do you want the more subtle look, as if you just picked up a hunk and shoved it in a still-awkward-with-fine-motor-movement-toddler way toward your mouth?

Because heaven forbid that we let on that we can, at this age, actually eat cake like a normally-functioning adult. The only thing you never see in an A.C.S. is a dang FORK.

But. In all of my research into this matter, I did find the exception. The one pair of Cake Smashers that ABSOLUTELY deserved the event, the cake, and the mess of icing.

These 100 year old twins.

So. If you have a twin and you both live to be 100, I absolutely INSIST that you have a cake smash.

But the rest of you could do with a bit more adulting.

If you’re ever bored waiting for your kids to pick out books at the library (or play endless games on the library computers), here’s my library entertainment secret.

Go to the children’s biography section and imagine it as a dinner party. Each book is a person sitting around the table, making small talk with those sitting nearby.

Pioneer Girl gets sat next to Snoop Dogg. While Snoop is asking her what kind of weeds they found on the Oregon Trail, whoever that fashion designer is and the composer John Philip Sousa have the job of preventing Hernando de Soto from murdering Squanto.

Meanwhile, across the table, Taylor Swift and President Taft commiserate on how hard it is when your squad turns against you, while Dr. Suzuki plays the world’s tiniest violin for them.

I guarantee your visits to the library will never be the same.

We ran across this house not long ago and gaped at its modern wonders.

…And its ability to be a mass human female milking stall.

Apparently this hotel feels that balloon animals make their patrons feel most at home. Which makes me fear the clowns that are nearly certainly staying next door.

Someone posted this with an “awwww!” in my feed.

So naturally my next goal in life is to pose roadkill in such a way to get animal lovers to believe they’re asleep and say “awwwww!”

This was the end of a story in one of Noah’s library books. I feel like we might need an epilogue…

…But maybe Nell had asked her mother too many questions that day. In which case it totally makes sense.

I never believed in the Elvis is Alive conspiracy theories. UNTIL I passed this church in the middle of nowhere Alabama. At least we now know where he’s been hiding.

A friend snapped this one for me and sent it. Never have I ever seen such fantasticness displayed on the back of a car.

In case you need me to translate:

Peace ● Love ● Breastfeed ● Cloth Diaper ● Babywear ● Leave your male child’s penis in tact.

(If you ever need some delightful reading on that last point, check out this post and the comments on it. I don’t mean to make you jealous since I’m positive it is all of your life dreams to be attacked by an angry mob of intactivists.)

And speaking of breastfeeding, how long did it take to squeeze these nuts hard enough to get that milk out?

Was this eye meant to have pink eye?  Lesson: when adding stickers to your car, always consider where the brake light will be.

These were a set of floats for sale at Target. I understand the giant Unicorn floats that are in style right now. They’re so instagrammable. But is it Instragram worthy to be hugging a five foot long pickle? Don’t answer that. But nobody likes a brown gummy bear.

And….WHO DID THIS TO THIS AVOCADO? You cut out only the MIDDLE OF THE PIT?? This is just heinous.

Also if this is movie night in a can, you might need to plan a bit ahead for movie night.

This was in a gas station bathroom I frequent regularly (it’s the closest bathroom to a nature preserve that only has port-a-potties – don’t judge.)

The next time I visited, the sign simply had the bottom half torn off – problem solved. They don’t appreciate criticism. Or apparently paper towels.

I saw these poor gummies in the grocery store and felt compelled to buy them and set them free in the parking lot. Nobody puts Freedom Bears in a box.

WALL-E is real. And it’s coming to a Sam’s Club near you.

There have been so many delightful news stories about Uranus lately. Are you aware at the fact that Uranus is ALL OVER the internet? You should be.

This is my favorite. I will never think of Uranus again without thinking of diamonds raining on it. (Or is it from it? Hard to tell.)

This is in the window of my local Starbucks. I don’t feel like I have quite enough information to choose the center option. Is that a police sketch? Did the Pirate do a crime, or is he a missing pop?

When this showed up in my Facebook feed a few months ago, I knew I had finally found the gold at the end of the internet rainbow. NEVER HAVE I EVER been so happy about a cat photo in my feed. From the picture being screen shot from a Google search to the comments, I was in love.

Oh and also, their hashtag is right. You should absolutely spay and neuter any leprechaun cats you see running around out there. They’re a spunky bunch.