Several weeks ago Morgs came home from school asking me something like this: "Mom, if you could do anything, or go anywhere, or meet anyone, what would it be?" Even though it was not the most grammatically correct question, I gave her my answer (which she didn't like much, but we'll get to that at a later post), and then asked why she was asking. Turns out the Make-a-Wish folks had been to school getting the kids all excited about the fun-run they were sponsoring to raise money for a girl in our area.
I had to wonder a bit at some of the answers I was told the kids shared. For example, apparently the woman began by asking, "If you could meet anyone in the entire world, who would it be?"
Boy #1: "...Um... X-Box 360?"
Make-a-Wish lady: "No, who would you meet?"
Boy #1: "...Uh..."
Make-a-Wish lady: "Anyone in the world."
Boy #1: "...Umm..."
Make-a-Wish lady: "We'll come back to you. How about you, little girl, who would you choose?"
Girl: "Neil Diamond."
Neil Diamond? How does she even know who that is, and what second grader, pray tell, wants to meet him?! I mean, come on, this guy was cool like 25 years before she was born. He's like a grandpa now. A Jazz-Singer Grandpa.
Whatever.
Back to school:
Make-a-Wish lady: (to boy #1) "Ok, did you decide on someone you'd like to meet?"
Boy #1: "Lord Vader."
Lord Vader? Neil Diamond? What year is it? Where's Ironman or Hannah Montana?
And Lord Vader? This kid obviously has a healthy respect for the Dark Side. Most kids would probably just call him Darth Vader. You know, me and Darth, we go way back. Not this kid. He knows you don't mess with Darth; oh no, it's Lord Vader.
I'm sorry to say, this sort of random oddity has not escaped my own family. The other day I came home from running errands to find the kids playing house. Ah, house. I spent hours and hours of my childhood pretending to be the mom, take care of the baby, talk to my neighbors, go grocery shopping, evade burglars, and pick up the shattered pieces of my life after our house mysteriously burned down.
Come on, you gotta have a conflict or there's no story.
Anyway, when it came time for the kids to clean up, I asked if they'd had any fun. "Yes," Ry said. "I'm a dermatologist."
"No," Mak said. "A dermatologist takes care of people's skin. You're a germaphobe."
"You're a germaphobe?" I asked.
"Yes, it's hilarious," she said. True. Hilarious. But weird.
But there's more. Then The Boy piped in with "I'm OCD."
OCD?! Come on! Whatever happened to just being the police man and the lady next door?
Oh well, what did you expect from the offspring of a woman who once used to be petrified of plug sockets and their uncanny ability to chase you around the house?
True story.