But my children will not be doctors or lawyers or beauty pageant contestants.
They’ll be rock stars. Like this:
I’ll name them rock star names, like Bjorn, and make them have emovers (or just plain messy hair) and take away television privileges so they can spend their time being creative. My left-handed son, the chosen one, will be gifted my left-handed Ibanez on his twelfth birthday, and we’ll all participate in family RockBand nights and car sing-alongs to Bloc Party and Kings of Leon and Coheed and Cambria and Death Cab.
Granted, there is the chance I won’t have sons. And there’s also the chance they won’t have a lick of musical ability. And I suppose there’s the chance that they’ll disown me and move to Las Vegas where they’ll become vegan taxi drivers. But I’m willing to risk it.
I suppose there’s a more likely chance that my sons will end up like this:
And I’m ok with that. I really am. So long as they have winning personalities.
And give the rock star thing a chance.
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please guest blog for me amanda...
ReplyDeleteI approve of your parenting ends. It's good to know that you realize that with Tad around things might go a bit awry.
ReplyDeleteThis is so funny. Bjorn the Vegan Taxi Driver. hahaha
ReplyDeleteThanks for the laugh, Amanda. :-)
My son is eight. He is taking piano lessons. He played a special at church and I was so proud. He's having trouble learning to read music. It's boring. He'd rather memorize songs that are pre-programmed on his keyboard. He prefers Star Wars and Harry Potter songs. But the other day I caught him playing the Wedding March. Ah. My little rock star.
ReplyDeleteChris, Your hair looks like some of those guys in the top picture. Or did you cut it all off?
ReplyDelete