Driving to school today, my daughter started telling me about all the things she wanted to be when she grew up.
Daddy, I want to be a vet, a doctor, a singer, an artist, an entomologist…
What the hell is an entomologist? Geesh, I’m not even as smart as a 2nd grader!
My son chimed in with his aspirations.
Daddy, I want to be a motorcycle racer (damn you Kabil!), a soccer player, an astronaut…
You ARE somewhat of a space cadet.
Not wishing to be left out of the discussion, the baby added her two cents.
Daddy, I’m going to be a dancer, a doctor and astronaut, a singer, an artist…
That’s what the crayon on the walls is all about!
No! I said I was going to be an artist…
I’m going to be the astronaut!
I was compelled to intervene.
Who wants to be President?
Hands shoot up in the air. Me! Me! I do!
Thank you Mr. Obama!
Who wants to be a tennis player?
More wildly wiggling arms. Me! I love tennis! Me too!
Williams sisters look out!
What about a scientist?
Arms strain towards the roof of the SUV. Me! Ooo I do! Me too!
Do we have a Edward Alexander Bouchet in our midsts?
Who wants to be a lawyer?
Rear view mirror totally unobstructed. Crickets.
I shed a silent tear.
C’mon guys, who wants to go to law school like mommy and daddy?
Crickets AND tumbleweeds.
So much for Chukumba Chukumba & Chukumba.
Anyone want to be a cyborg robotronic computerhead like your daddy?
Palms shoot up. Me! Me! Me too!
So I’ve learned that my children have aspirations, although the practice of law isn’t in the cards.
They want to be motorcycle driving, rocket piloting, goal scoring, Wimbeldon winning, pet curing, people saving, song singing, audience pleasing, canvas painting, country leading, robotronic bug watchers.
I AM as smart as a 2nd grader, after all!