Do you remember what you
wanted to be when you grew up? Most of us went through a list of possible dream professions.
When we learned that there were not many openings for real cowboys, who rode
the range, fought Indians and outlaws, and drank rye whiskey from a
dirty glass, we moved on. We discovered that to be a princess you needed to
have more than a tiara and a pink evening gown with frilly edges. Your parents
had to be royalty. We judge from mom's old housecoat, and dad's comfortable but
worn out shirt and boxers, this was not happening. Gradually we worked our way
through a world of possibilities, until as we grew taller our list grew shorter
and more practical.
For instance. To be an
astronaut one is required to learn things. Things like math and algebra. To be
a famous athlete one must be borne with amazing talent, or resign themselves to
work each and every day to make the cut.
That being said. If you
didn't like math, or the idea of spending hours a day doing actual exercise
didn't make you giddy then chances are your list was pretty short.
What about those of us who
never got that dream job or our face was never on the cover of a Wheaties box?
How did we know we had grown up? Well first I suppose we must try to define a
measure of what it means to be grown up.
Would being old enough to
vote count as being grown up? Society after all and even our own government
have decided that at the age of 18 we are grown up, and responsible enough to
be able to vote. What about our first real job where we were not required to
ask, “Would you like fries with that?”, or “May I super size that for you?”
Perhaps it was having our own car, apartment, or even kids of our very own.
Along with each of these choices came responsibilities as well as bills of our
very own.
I must confess. With each
of these new milestones I still had no sense of being grown up. Although I did
have a new sense of responsibility, a grown up to me was someone like my
parents. That was definitely not me.
Then one day it happened.
There had been no warning. No one sent out a memo. Nothing was marked on the
calendar to prepare me. One of my children wanted to go somewhere, or do
something. My mind raced ahead to all of the dangers, and things that could or would
go wrong, and end with my child endangering themselves or another. Of course I
said no. At this point dad had done his duty as a parent and been responsible.
Of course my child asked me the question all young and foolish young children
are want to ask. “Why not?”
Now if you were reading
earlier you know and I know that I genuinely did have reasons. My list of
reasons was way to long to make for anything other, than a long and drawn out
answer, which would of no doubt surpassed the attention span time limit of a
youngster. I also thought better of suggesting things to an impressionable
young mind that had not occurred to them before. So of course I gave the old
standard adult answer.
I immediately flashed back
to my childhood as I heard my father’s voice escaping from my own lips, and
saying those four words. “Because I said so.” I wanted to take it back, to not
believe it was so, but it was too late. I had said it. Unfortunately everyone
knows that once said, words cannot be taken back. They are out there.
I sat down sighing in my
comfortable worn out shirt and boxers, and feeling very much like a grown up.
Thank you Brian for that story. Quite interesting and I am sure that many parents can relate.
If you want to connect with Brian Randleas, you can cruise over to his blog and check out his Facebook page.
See ya next time.
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