Sometimes I wonder what my kids think of me. Not in the “do they respect and love me the way that befits the Queen that I am” way, but in the me as a human being way.
How many times have we told them stories about ourselves outside of their experience? If we regale them with a funny anecdote, do they really understand?
I think not:
A girl handed this picture in to her teacher. The assignment was “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
(Here’s the reply the teacher received the following day)
Dear Mrs. Jones,
I wish to clarify that I am not now, nor have I ever been, an exotic dancer.
I work at Home Depot and I told my daughter how hectic it was last week before the blizzard hit. I told her we sold out every single shovel we had, and then I found one more in the back room, and that several people were fighting over who would get it.
Her picture doesn’t show me dancing around a pole. It’s supposed to depict me selling the last snow shovel we had at Home Depot. From now on I will remember to check her homework more thoroughly before she turns it in.
Sincerely, Mrs. Smith
The Blahg 