My son told me today of his plan to work for a living, sometime in the near future. "Mommy, I would have a cupcake-aria with both a restaurant AND store. People can be served there or they can take it home. And I'd have a tip jar."
I asked him what his job would be. "Me and my brother would be the bakers. Daddy would be the waiter."
What about Mommy? "Umm, you can hand me the things to put in the oven." (Shows you what he thinks of my domestic skills.)
"I would have to work to get money so I couldn't go to school anymore." (Great. I have a child willing to be a 4th grade dropout.)
"But wait, Mommy. We could only work there in the summer time." (Phew, we will live to see him in 5th grade)
So I guess it would have to be closed the rest of the time, I replied.
"No, because with it closed all the time, we will have no money. Maybe we can hire some people to work there when it's not summer. Maybe some hobos. Then they can work and get some money."
But where would they shower?
"They can come to our house."
Are you sure there's enough room?
He gives it some thought. "Maybe they can find an empty house. One with three bedrooms. They can work and get money and when their life is better, they can thank us. Oh, and remember that little boy that was lost at the store? Maybe we can get hobos to be their parents. Or to other kids that ran away and need parents. So everyone is happy."
Though my son's plan is growing to now help runaways and lost children, this is where I interrupt and explain that you can only get new parents if yours can't take care of you. A little kid can run away, but their parents would probably still love them and want them to come home.
"Oh, O.K...," he's fine with the explanation and moves on, "we can also help the hobos and use coupons and get them things for their house like an XBox and food. Then their life will be better and they will have a place to live and some money too."
That sounds like a great plan, I tell him. You are really thoughtful.
Later that night, we are doing homework and one of his spelling words is "selfish."
I tell him that it means you don't want to share and you just think about yourself and not about other people.
"I'm selfish sometimes," he tells me matter-of-factly.
Later I think about how funny it seems. My son thinks he's selfish, but he is more than willing to give a homeless person a job, a home, and the most amazing thing a 9 yr old can have-an XBox. And that my son believes in the goodness of hobos- that they'd want to be good parents to kids with none. For all these little ironic and funny things, I am grateful tonight.
