Happy Mother’s Day
Parents waste a lot of time wondering what their kids are going to be when they grow up. You can’t help it when you spend 24 hours a day with this little person who has the potential to be almost anything. Despite the stereotype of every mother wanting her kid to be a doctor, most parents probably have more realistic expectations than kids themselves. I spent most of my childhood planning to be the world’s first astronaut-ballet dancer-marine biologist-movie star. That didn’t work out so well. But it doesn’t stop me from projecting just a liiiiiittle bit onto poor Baby Evan.
Baby Evan sits on the dog – He loves animals! He’s going to be a vet!
Baby Evan chews on a board book – He loves books! He’s going to be a famous writer!
Baby Evan falls off the couch – What a daredevil! Maybe he’ll be a skydiving instructor!
Baby Evan kisses my toes – He clearly has an interest in feet. He’s going to be a podiatrist!
Baby Evan eats trash – What an adventurous palate! I bet he wins Top Chef one day!
But the truth is, I don’t care if Baby Evan is any of those things. I don’t care if he’s rich or poor or single or married or owns a mansion or only owns a cardboard box. He can be a successful businessman or a starving artist. He can live in New York or LA or Paris or Sydney or my basement. None of that stuff matters (although if he does live in my basement you better believe he’ll be paying rent and mowing the lawn).
I just want him to be happy.