In the last post about My Book About Me, I mentioned that I sometimes have difficulty choosing a favorite. I’m a typical engineer; ask me a simple question and my initial answer to you will probably be ‘it depends.’ Multiple-choice questions can be torture.
A note about watermelon: I typically eat it several days a week.
But about that indecisiveness — nowhere is it more apparent than in my treatment of the ‘When I Grow Up, I Want to Be’ page.
For those keeping score at home, I was considering a career as a mother-millionaire-veterinarian-singer-dancer-farmer-doctor-nurse-lion tamer-policeman-artist-dentist-mailman-actor-banker-tv star-football player-movie star-photographer-telephone operator-gold miner (especially that one, I circled it five times)-judge-jockey-president-magician-mayor-camel driver-acrobat-dog trainer-fisherman-yak trainer. I was also thinking maybe a cowboy-indian-astronaut, but possibly just as a hobby.
I’m an engineer, which was not a choice, but I’m still considering farmer-astronaut-millionaire.
I have always liked to read and I fondly remember the basket in my bedroom that I would fill each week or two with new library books, but I am pretty sure the following number is a fabrication:
What six-year old knows how many books they’ve read?
Okay, I have to prepare you now for the saddest page of the whole book — the autograph page:
“Most kids can’t get them all.” How many kids get none? In my defense, all of the relatives lived far enough away that we didn’t see them often. As to the rest, that is what we call foreshadowing. But seriously, like most children I was taught not to talk to strangers. And everyone I don’t already know is a stranger. Don’t ask me to explain how I know anybody at all.
True story: once I was very young and I was at the mall with my mom, walking through an awesome aquarium that was set up in one of the storefronts. A woman pushing a stroller with a son about my age told me that he would like to share his candy. So I forcefully said, “No!” — because stranger offering candy, duh. I don’t remember anybody’s reaction, but a minute or two later my mom told me it probably would have been okay that time. And I have been utterly confused about rules (and strangers) ever since.
All of that stuff kind of helps explain why I don’t know anybody in the city where I’ve lived for two years. I happen to think I’m a pretty nice person:
I’d like to leave you with two original stories that I wrote. Transcript after the photo (I have added some punctuation).
Story #1: There was a sheep and she was 1 year old and she was just born. Her mother loved her so much that she did not leave her same with her dad. He protected them. The End. PS. There was a dog and she had been traveling for 8 years and was 20 years old. Saw a goat and the same thing happened to him.
Story #2 (‘A littel secret’): Ones a brontasaras came to his class. He told dueplotacus a littel secret about his mom and dad geting davorst. Dueplotacus said mine did to. Soon school was out thae went home dueplotacus invited brontasorus over. Thae had fun and lived happalie ever after. The end.