Most preschool boys have lofty occupational goals. Some of the
most popular at this age seem to be fireman, policeman, astronaut, train
engineer and Spiderman. My son has dreams of driving a train or a monorail but
his fantasy role of the hour seems to be that of someone in middle management.
I don’t think this necessarily makes him a realist (I see him headed for upper
management at the very least) but it does make him unique.
Here are some of manager musings from the last few weeks:
One of my workers has been to the South Pole. He stayed
warm because his coat was made of bricks.
Mom, we need to bring food to my workers because they
don’t have any money.
I have to make ramps for most of my workers. They are in
wheelchairs and can’t climb ladders.
It’s my workers birthday and we are having a party for
him so we need to make some cake.
I take pride in the fact that my son seems to be a pretty
good boss. He throws birthday parties for his employees, makes sure that the
disabled among them are accommodated, listens to their elaborate vacation
stories, and brings food to them when they are in need. My only concern is that
his workers seem to work for him out of the goodness of their heart. I asked
him once if he paid them for the work they did. He laughed and said, “No Mommy.
They don’t need money.”
Entitlement rears its ugly head yet again.