My dad is the coolest. He is always busy doing something interesting and amazing, quick to help others and very easy to talk to. We get along very well (ever since I stopped being a punk teenager, actually) and have a lot of fun together. There are many things that we do and ways that we think that are similar.
However, there are also some things in which we differ wildly. This post is about one of those things.
My 14-year-old brother, Morgan, called me last night to tell me that he had been talking to our dad about babies or something and wanted to share some information with me. Apparently, before I was born, my dad had already envisioned my life. I'm sure it included a lot of things, but the main points were that I was destined to be an all-star in high school, both in academics and athletics, both of which would get me into BYU, where I would be the star quarterback on the football team. I would win the Heisman Trophy and be drafted as the No. 1 pick in the NFL draft, only to decline in order to enroll at Harvard Medical School, where I had been accepted.
As Morgan recited this to me, my dad hollered in the background, "But tell him I'm happy with how he turned out!" I assured him that I like the way I turned out, as well, and enjoyed talking about his dreams for me.
When I hung up, it made me think about my expected child and what I envision for her. So far, all I have planned for her is to be able to fight with and beat up the children of my best friends, Jeff and Brandon. Since they don't have any children yet, Chicklet is bound to win. My dreams will come true, unlike my father's.
After than, I don't have any aspirations for her, really.
Fortunately my child will have a good mother, so she won't turn out bad, in spite of me.