So I haven't seen it yet, but I have a general idea of what happens in the new (who knew we needed so many of them?) movie about "The Incredible Hulk."

1. Dr. Bruce Banner is just another one of your typical mild-mannered but brilliant scientists.

2. Until someone tells him he looks just like that crazy actor Ed Norton.

3. Apparently Bruce Banner hates it when someone tells him he looks like that crazy actor Ed Norton.

4. So he gets angry and turns all green and grows HUGE big Arnold Schwarzenegger veins up and down his arms.

5. After which he spontaneously bursts out of his clothes.

6. Except, of course, for those scary tiny pants.

I've been thinking about the Hulk because I went through a startling — even frightening — transformation yesterday down here on the beach where we're vacationing with my extended family (parents, brothers, sisters-in-laws, assorted nieces and nephews).

Here's what happened:

1. My mother innocently asked me to go into town with her.

2. Only I didn't want to go into town with her! Do you hear me? I wanted to stay on the beach! Isn't that why we go to beach? TO STAY ON THE BEACH?

3. Mothers! They're so unreasonable! You just want to stay on the beach reading articles about how to lose "unwanted belly fat," but they're all "Come into town with me. We'll have a good time!"

4. And before you know it, you're pouting. Yes! You are! You're pouting. You're practically throwing yourself down on the kitchen floor, screaming and kicking because you do not want to go into town and have a good time.

5. Soon you'll be texting all your friends, complaining about your mother and how she wants you to have a good time while snottily flipping your bangs out of your eyes because that's what 14-year-old girls do when they complain about their mothers — they snottily flip their bangs out of their eyes.

You see where I'm going with this? Without warning, I suddenly found myself turning green, bursting out of all my clothes (except for my scary tiny pants), and morphing into a much (much!) younger junior high version of myself.

The spell lasted for a few hours, too. I did go into town, but I wasn't that much fun to be around (I was too busy texting and snottily flipping bangs out of my eyes), and I think chances are pretty good that I ruined my mother's afternoon. (Sorry, Mom. I promise I'll make it up to you.)

Which brings me to this observation. Adult families are interesting. One minute you're a mature middle-aged, on-time-bill-paying, engine-oil-checking, PTA-cookie-baking, ice-cube-tray-refilling, telephone-call-returning grownup. Then a family member says something to you and — voila! — the years melt away just like that.

Suddenly you've reverted back to the kid you once were, saying and doing stuff you SWORE you would never ever say and do again.

This is a reality that is either depressing or darkly funny — depending on how you look at it.

I need a laugh today, so I think I'll go for funny.

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