As I was getting ready this morning, Plato (now 9 1/2) was in a rather expansive mood... likely in part due to the sugar-high he was on from the Oreos he had eaten for breakfast. It was one of those increasingly infrequent mornings where he just talks and talks and talks... and I just listen, nod at appropriate intervals, and murmur, "mmmhmmm..." every once in awhile.
But I'm not ignoring him, oh no. I love to hear him talk. I drink in his words like they were the elixir of life; and I suppose in some way they are.
Lately Plato has been rather fixated on planning out his life. It is so like him; I have always thought of him as a rather old soul, and others have pointed this out from time to time as well. School has provided many opportunities for him to become interested in a variety of topics, which lead to his random announcements as to what he is going to be when he grows up.
Thankfully, he has outgrown the urge to be a garbage man... I mean, *ahem,* Sanitation Engineer. And I am not saying that because of the pay: I honestly can't imagine my little man working in STINK all day every day!!! No, his interests of late tend to lean toward more lucrative professions which puts me in a bit of a mommy-quandry: I don't want to push him toward working "for the money;" at the same time I know that working for little money can really suck rocks. So if he leans toward something financially appealing, and happens to LIKE it too... well, doesn't that mean I should nudge him in that direction while he is interested? That doesn't make me a bad mom, does it?
This morning he told me that he is going to hold down several jobs. He is going to be an orthodontist, a professional baseball player, an architect, and a chemist. All of which, he points out, pay well. I told him I'm just glad he is planning to do something that he loves when he grows up. He says he will.
He paused a bit and I checked his reflection in the mirror as I applied my mascara. He was in classic Plato "thinking stance:" head down, hands in pockets, rocking on his toes a bit as he studied them. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his little head. Something inaudibly clicked, and he suddenly looked up at me. "Mom?"
"Do people actually get PAID to drive a zamboni?"
It was really really hard to stifle a giggle, or to keep from poking my mascara wand into my eyeball. "...well, I mean... of course they do. They don't do it for free."
His shoulders dropped and he blew out the breath he had been holding. "Oh GOOD. 'Cause that's how I am going to help pay my way through college. I'll drive a zamboni part time."
Quite satisfied with himself, he turned to head to the living room. Calling back over his shoulder he reassured me, "See Mom? I've really got my life all figured out. It's gonna be AWESOME."
Yes, Plato. It is going to be awesome. You rock, buddy. Mama loves you.
Deep Coma, Big Karma - Just winding down for the moment. The Blogosphere is not what it was in the *Two Thousand And Somethings*, and discourse has largely morphed itself off els...