Yesterday I attended a 3-year-old’s birthday party. Well, a party for two three-year-olds actually. Twins. They’re quite a hoot, these two, and I get a kick out of some of the things they say.
Yesterday’s giggle came from asking them the question, “What do you want to be for Halloween?”
The little girl’s answer was fairly typical. ‘A Tinkerbell Ballerina.’ Of course, what little girl doesn’t want to dress up as a fairy and dance around?
The little boy won the day though. His response?
“I want to be a potato.”
'What kind of potato?'
“A mashed potato.”
I can see the fun his parents will have explaining that one on people’s doorsteps. ‘What’s that on his head?’
“A pat of butter of course.”
The kid definitely marches to his own drum.
I remember when my son was little and we asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, his first response was: An apple.
I had visions of people asking me, “So, Mrs. Colgan, what does your son do for a living?”
“He’s a professional apple. In college he minored in orange but apple is his real calling. And on the weekends, he jams with a bunch of grapes.”
Sometimes I think I missed my own calling by spending three quarters of my life aspiring to be a novelist. I should have just followed my true love and become a chocolate bar.