Permission

My oldest son told me that when he grows up he wants to be an actor. While I was glad he actually chose a profession this time (for several years he only wanted to be a daddy, which was sweet, but won't pay the bills, right?), I immediately asked him what else he wants to be. translation: what's your back up plan for when you don't make it as an actor?

Way to be a dream crusher, Mindy. Way to bring that nine year old back down to earth, mom.

Here's the deal. I am so practical at heart. I always have been, which is evidenced by the very practical career path I chose. Had I allowed myself to dream and wonder when I was 18 and 19, I might be a graphic designer or something equally as creative. Had I NOT let practicality govern my decision making, maybe I would be writing for a living? Who really knows. It's a moot point now.

But I find myself wondering if and when my little guy will start letting practicality govern. Does that just happen as years tick by, or will it be me or someone else that robs him of big dreams that may or may not make sense?

I want more for him. I want both of my sons to feel permission to dream. Permission to try and most importantly, permission to fail. Because for me, the fear of failure is often...more often than I'd like to admit...the impetus for my practicality.