What will Leif be when he grows up?

Dear Leif,

Hello, future. How are all the self-driving cars? Son, right now you’re ten months old. You don't have a job yet, but I think I can make some informed guesses.

You love nature. When you see a dog on our walks, you squeal. Ophelia the rabbit is never safe from your leaping clutches. When we take you outside, you stop crying/fussing and just stare at the leaves/grass/sun. Obviously this love of all things natural means you’re going to be a veterinarian. As you’re reading this between massive textbooks on animal physiology, know that this was meant to be since childhood. Or perhaps this love translates into plants and you’re a forester, scaling trees and watching for forest fires. Or a dog sitter with two dozen dogs of your own. A landscaper. A dirt salesman.

But then again, you love kids too. I think children have so much energy that you can’t keep your eyes off of them. You could be babysitting right now, scrolling through mom and dad’s old blogs on your 3D holographic smartphone implants. Maybe you’ll grow up to be a teacher, with kids to entertain you all day. Or work for DHS, ensuring kids get treated with the love and care they deserve. Or a pediatrician, making enough to take care of old mom and dad in our retirement. A children’s book author. A circus clown.

Your interests are not all puppy dogs and roses, however. You also love the toilet. As in, every time we accidentally leave the bathroom door open, you make a beeline for the door. The side of the tub can sometimes be enough to occupy you for a few minutes, but usually that porcelain bowl is too tempting to resist. You’ve yet to actually touch the toilet (praise the Lord), but this may be an interest that does not fade with time. Are you a plumber now, relaxing after a hard day’s work and laughing at how your love of bathrooms began at an early age? An upper class toilet bowl designer? A septic tank repairman?

I can’t predict the future. But I know whatever direction you choose to live your life, I’ll be right behind you, supporting you the whole way. Maybe not literally behind you if you go into toilet-related jobs, but you get the idea.

So go for it. Get that doctorate degree. Drop out of school to start a business. Run for president. Live in Uzbekistan (but come visit!).

Maybe don't be the next Napoleon though, okay?

Love, your (younger) old man,

Dad