Last night, Hubby and I decided to talk to our kids about college, trying to figure out what they want to study, and if they wish to attend, and when. It’s an expense that must be measured and obviously one that cannot be taken lightly. The last thing I need is for a kid to major in Eighteenth Century Estonian Basketweaving.
Anyway, the talk turned to what they enjoy doing, and I was trying to make a point of them figuring out what things and activities have kept them interested for years. That way they will have a better understanding of what kind of education they would enjoy pursuing. As usual, some humor entered the conversation, courtesy of Hubby.
Hubby: What interested you when you were younger?
Eldest: What do you mean, Dad?
Hubby: Well, when I was your age, I wanted to be a Penthouse™ photographer.
Eldest: Dad, why would want to take pictures of penthouses?
Me: (sighing in relief) I have never been so happy to hear you say something like that.
My relief was short-lived, since Hubby explained what he meant. But for a few seconds, I was revelling in the beautiful innocence. Like it or not, I have to let them grow up sometime. I just wish it were in a bubble