Last updated on October 1, 2017
It’s good to have goals, right?
The Girl (11yo) recently decided to become a vegetarian. Now for someone like me, who believes the definitionÂ of a “good meal” is aÂ medium rare filet mignon (“Give it to us raw – and wriggling!”), this whole thing is odd to me. But I’m trying to be supportive. She and a couple of her friends decided this while waiting in the lunch line at school. I’m not sure what this says about the lunch offering at school that day. Anyway, by the time they’d gotten their trays to the lunch table, Girl was the only one still sticking to it. She’s now been a vegetarian for two weeks and, so far, doesn’t seem to be sorry about it. She’s even researched the different types of vegetarian diets and decided she’s a lacto-ovo vegetarian, meaning she can have diary and eggs (unfertilized). She and dad talked about the importance of still getting the nutrients she needs and that as long as she does it right, we’ll be supportive. Heck, she’ll probably end up being healthier than all of us.
Boy Genius (9yo) wants to climb Mount Everest. Yes, really. This one wasn’t so much out of the blue, though it still took me by surprise. A few weeks ago, our pastor used an analogy involving climbing Mount Everest (saying that most people that climb it give “it was there” as their reason for doing so). Aside from the fact that Boy Genius kept shaking his head vigorously every time the pastor said Mount Everest was the highest point on earth, it nonetheless stuck with him. Since then, he started reading this series of books called Everest, by Gordon Korman. Now he’s talking about what we need to do to start preparing for our Everest Expedition. Apparently, he presumes I’m doing this with him. Oh, lordy. Um, not my goal, thanks. I asked him why he wanted to climb Mount Everest and he replied, with a smirk of course, “because it’s there.”
As for Wonder Boy (4.5yo), who knows what his goals are. He’s currently fascinated with this newly constructed building that sits an an intersection we pass to/from school each day. He calls it the “white place” now (it’s a white aluminum-type building), but he’s been fascinated by it since the frame was first put up. I don’t even know what it is and neither does he. I’m guessing it’s a church, and each day he asks to go there. Right now, I’m holding him off by saying they’re not finished building it, but as soon as the dozers are gone, a random pop-in will happen.
Hey, I’m all about helping my kids reach their goals. As long as I can still eat meat and keep my feet at sea level.