He disturbs the quiet as he bounds through the door, burdened by his third grader's book bag. "Hi, Mom! Mmm...those brownies smell great!" The perfect vision of June Cleaver, she turns and says, "Hello, Johnny dear. How was school today?" He flashes a big, toothy smile and says, "It was swell! We talked about occupations and, say, will Pop be home for dinner tonight? I can't wait to tell you both what I have decided I'm going to be when I grow up."
--
That night at dinner, as they pass the meatloaf and garlic bread, Dad says, "Hey sport! Your mother was telling me that you have determined your future. Let's hear it. You going to be a doctor like your old man?" Sheepishly, but with excitement bubbling just below the surface, Little Johnny responds, "Um, actually, I was thinking of something a little more...exciting." "Surgeon? Pilot? Televangelist? What do you want to be when you grow up," his parents ask. Johnny drops his fork, takes a gulp of whole milk, wipes his mouth on the cloth napkin in his lap.
"I want to be a crocodile wrestler."
"This is what I want to be when I grow up," says Johnny proudly. "I want to pull them out of the water by their tails, antagonize them with water and shouting, and provoke them to anger by prodding them with a stick. An' then, when I got 'em good and mad, I'll stick my arm, my foot, even my head into his mouth. An' the best part is I can start when I'm sixteen!"
"A crocodile wrestler? I'm so proud," beams dad.
--
This may or may not be a factual account of how one chooses the career path of crocodile wrestler. I saw this. I watched them royally tick off an animal with sharp teeth and get paid for it. I don't remember crocodile wrestler coming up when I did a review game on Occupations with grade one here at BCC, but it's clearly an option, I suppose.
Who am I to judge someones hopes, dreams, and other matter of future aspiration?
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