This past weekend, my husband and I attended the annual tuition assistance auction for my daughter’s preschool. Every year, one of the most anticipated parts of the night is the auctioning off of the class projects. Each class makes a project (which range from sweet to stunning), and bidding wars sometimes ensue for the honor of bringing home the work of the children from their earliest school experience.
This year, it wasn’t until right before the auction began that I heard details about my daughter’s class project. A photo was taken of each of the children jumping for joy, and a book was compiled of each child’s answers to a few questions (including what makes them happy and what they want to be when they grow up). The mother in charge of the project told me that my daughter had said that, when she grows up, she wants to be “a mom.”
I was stunned. Not least because, just the other day, my daughter had told me that, when she grows up, she wants to be a daddy, not a mommy. (To which I replied, “Don’t we all, honey.”)
But when I saw the book, I saw that she had, indeed, said she wants to be a mom when she grows up. Tears sprang to my eyes. I’ve only asked her a few times what she wants to be when she grows up (because I don’t want to put any pressure on her, in that regard, and because I’m still working out, day by day, what I want to be when I grow up). And, when I have, my daughter has always said that she wants to “help people who are hurt” (which also brought tears to my eyes).
Surely, mothers do this. And so much more. And I have no idea what my daughter will say the next time she’s asked that question.
But I won the auction for that class project. I have the physical evidence. And I plan on framing the page, because I know there will be days when things aren’t going so well (as there have been already so many times). But if I can remember that, once when she was five, my daughter gave me this great honor, it may help make those days that much easier.
Thank you, honey.