I have come to the conclusion that my maturity level has not risen since I was eight years-old. That is not including the hormonal growing pains all teenagers (and those around them) have to put up with. There were two things I was focused on that no child that age would typically share. 1)I started being concerned with what kind of parent I would be. Not with my baby dolls, but with my actual children that still exist only in the relatively distant future. I could continue with this, but I want to take this post in a different direction. 2)I was obsessed with decorating. I loved all the interior/exterior home design shows. I hated (still do) clothes shopping but I could spend hours in Pier 1, World Market, and Hobby Lobby. I would clip cool rooms out of my "American Girl" magazine and my mom's "Better Homes and Gardens." That being said, here is my dream house, or the best I could do through Google images.