What is your favorite cereal?
And of course the answer was Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch because, obviously.
But that's not the question everyone wants to ask. They want to know what you want to be when you grow up. I'll admit, I too am one of these infuriating grown ups who ask every child I know what they want to be when they enter the unforgiving world of expectations.
I love hearing their answers.
Fireman.
Policeman.
Actor.
Rockstar.
My own son, despite his disabilities, wants to be a doctor. He plans to cure his own ailments one day and I, as his mother, couldn't be more giddy that he reaches for something so challenging.
My answer, from the age of four, has never changed. Deep down in my soul, I wanted to be a writer. That's it. The joy of creating a new world and breathing life into my characters has been my ultimate desire. Not that I always admitted it.
With the release of Cinnamon and Salt yesterday and the terror that has ensued over having a book I feel so connected to out in the world, I have been reflecting on this a lot.
I never thought I could be a published writer. So I never tried. Sure, I wrote stories here and there, but it took a long time before I considered publishing. I always thought I needed a "real job." As I entered the strange and awkward world of adulthood, I thought I needed to have a job that would make me unhappy and keep me that way. Not because of the people I worked with or anything, but because I was letting my creative side deteriorate in lieu of something that would give me a steady paycheck. The paycheck was alright, but the people were the reason I continued to show up for work every day. You people know who you are.
Anyway, I've been reflecting on this a lot over the last 24 hours.
Why in the world did I ever feel like I couldn't reach that goal? Why do any of us feel like we have to stifle who we really are for a steady paycheck? Is it because we are afraid that the economy will collapse when jobs go undone because they aren't as glamorous as another? Or is it because bills need to get paid and we don't believe there is any way to pay them without a frown on or face and dread in our heart? Are we afraid of the risk?
I guarantee we all have bought into one of those beliefs at least once.
My question is why.
Why do we feel like we need to be unhappy doing what we do every day? Why do we impress that fallacy upon our children?
How many times have you stopped to ask a child what they want to be when they grow up and rolled your eyes when they tell you that they want to be a superhero?
Now, why did you do that?
Wouldn't it be more productive to ask them what they think a superhero is? Maybe they don't see the cape and mask, but rather a badge, a truck, or fatigues.
Why do we do this to our children? Does the world really need less people who are unhappy with what they do? Does it really make a difference if we have one less telemarketer who goes home feeling bad about themselves because they had someone call them names at the end of their ten hour shift before they went home to take care of the baby they go to work for in the first place?
This is my challenge to you:
This week, ask a child that age old question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
Then listen to their answer. And I mean really listen. Then, no matter what they say, tell them that you can't wait to see them become that dream.
Who knows? You might have just inspired the next JK Rowling, Angelina Jolie, Stephen Hawking, or Erin Brockovich.
I think you get the idea. If each of us takes an extra second to support our fellow human being rather than tear them down, we could do great things.
Lose the judgement. Question the fallacy.
Follow the immortal words of Ghandi:
"Be the change you want to see in the world."
