Even before he could walk, my youngest son loved “cleaning.” His first obsession toy was a hand vacuum. After he burned out the battery from sheer use, I began to wonder if this was a sign of a future calling. I’ll admit I tilted my head a little at this possibility.

However, somewhere deep down every parent knows it’s not a great idea to project too blindingly our own visions upon them, of what the grown-up them will be. Or way worse, force them to live out and fix our own broken dreams.

Sure, we might try to innocently tip the pinball machine a little here and there by suggesting certain things, like erecting billboards alongside their path to becoming the person they’ll be, exposing them to a certain kind of music or sport, lessons in something particular,  you know what I’m talking about. But ultimately we know it’s their game we’re entering cheat codes into.

He’s got five years under his belt now, and he still plays with cleaning appliances and supplies like birthday presents, but watching him, I can see what he sees better now. It’s the way I saw things when I was a kid. The way we all did.

I don’t know which roads he’ll take speeding into his future. My job is simply to be there to make sure he’s buckled up, and maybe give him some extra gas money to reach the finish line of his dreams.
 

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