Since Andrew broke his leg a year ago, he had big plans on being a “cast doctor”. We had the experience of going to a great orthopedic surgeon. I admit that some of the photos in the doctor’s office of yachts and whatnot, put a little extra umphhh into my encouragement of his chosen career.
Apparently things have changed.
Last week Andrew helped me make waffles for lunch and I was complimenting him on how good they turned out.
“Mom, I decided I’m not going to be that one thing anymore. What was it? Oh yeah, a cast doctor. I’m going to be a waffle maker when I grow up.”
“Oh, really Andrew? Are you sure?”, I answered…slight panic in my voice as dreams of sailing on the open seas quickly evaporate.
“Yes. But you might get a little mad at me. Or really sad.”
Oh no, perhaps he can read my materialistic mind?
“Because when I leave to be a waffle maker, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to take THAT thing (pointing to the waffle iron) OUT of your house. Forever.”