When I was six, I think I wanted to be a marine biologist. I must have seen a documentary about seals sometime around age four or five (could only watch PBS until I was in first grade; Hi, Mom!), and at a certain point I was obsessed with saving baby harp seals and being very Greenpeace-y.
Well, we all know how that turned out. In truth, I still love marine life. I find the ocean and its contents pretty damn fascinating. I watched a National Geographic Channel documentary about tsunamis a couple of weeks ago. (Message: Be very afraid.) But I was a crappy inorganic chemistry student, which basically cut me off from a career in the sciences. Plus I find boat travel very boring. (Sorry, Dad.)
But when I was six, that is what I wanted to be.
I didn’t have other goals, really. Or I took on things one at a time. Marine biology got replaced by fiction editor. (Ha! I know, right! After college I almost tried to pay Penguin to employ me instead of the other way around!) That ALSO did not work. Plus also wife, mother, etc. Not too much on the plate at once.
My daughter, however, is cut from a different cloth. This morning, after everyone was off to work and school, I noticed a green sheet of paper on Taxman’s nightstand.
It was a list of Miss M’s goals, likes, hopes and dreams manifesto. Illustrated. Of course.
I present it to you here; then I am going to put it in an envelope and tuck it in with the Important Life Documents.
Spelling is hers. Words in bold are circled in the original.
I WANT TO BE RICH AND FAMIS
I WILL DO [meaning own] A SHOP (eds note: gallery?)
I WILL BE A ARTIST
I WANT MONIY
I WILL USE WATR CLRS
I LOVE TO USE PANT
I USE MARCR
I WILL HAVE A DOG
I MAKE BOOKS
I MAKE PIKCHRS
She is going to support us in our old age. I can feel it.
Also: as much as she makes us crazy in 4698 ways, how can we not love her?