Monday, August 11, 2008
Diana and I were sitting on the couch watching the Olympics last night and we started in on the “What will Elijah be when he grows up?” talk.
We predicted Olympic Swimmer or Olympic Gymnast or Olympic Weight Lifter. Then we started in on being an Actor or a Famous Guitarist or basically anything that would involve us not having to work again. Diana mentioned something about professional Ballet Dancer, but I couldn't hear because my homophobia was screaming, “No no no no!”
It dawned on me that I think of my baby the same way people think of their past lives. We were always Attila the Hun or Shakespeare or Steve Guttenberg. What? He’s still alive? Anyhoo, we never think of our past lives as the guy who hauled manure from the king’s castle. Or the guy who caught rickets in the Revolutionary War.
But truth be told, I’d prefer future Elijah be an Actuary. Or a Librarian. Something low stress, where he can spend time with his family and maybe have a few extra dollars to buy a nice space boat. To take his old man space fishing. I mean, it would be nice if future Elijah called a bit more, or wrote me a space letter once and a while. I know. He’s busy with the space kids. Those two are a handful, don’t you know. And I don’t get around much anymore, what with my space arthritis. But it gets lonely here in The United Republic of New Florida…