When I grow up, I think I will wear silly hats, electric blue boas, sky-high tappin’ heels, glossy pink lipstick, sparkly shirts and spinnin’ skirts.
When I grow up, I won’t worry about what other people think of my singing. I will sing gloriously each time my happy heart wells with a tune.
When I grow up, I will make time to build eye-high skyscrapers with blocks. Then I will push them down and laugh.
When I grow up, I think I’ll ride a bike up and down the driveway inching closer to the street each time. I’ll hit the trees with sticks for no apparent reason. I’ll make chalk outlines of the shadows on the sidewalk.
When I grow up, I’m going to make a career out of the things I love – cooking, picturing, writing – and someone will pay me a lot of money to do it.
When I grow up, I’ll paint pictures of stars, cars and family, and I’ll be so good at it I might even hang it on the refrigerator.
When I grow up, money won’t matter. Both my needs and wants will always be met, and I won’t think of health insurance, taxes, bills and retirement.
When I grow up, I will have a home so big I need an intercom system to talk to someone on the other side of it.
When I grow up, I will eat chocolate cake, sushi and pizza Sunday through Tuesday and Rice Krispie treats, shrimp with lobster sauce and crawfish Wednesday through Friday. On Saturday, I will eat spaghetti and homemade ice cream. I will never get fat or sick. I will never feel like I overate. And I will never vary from that menu. Ever.
When I grow up, I will never have to worry about arthritis or random concussions and stomach bugs.
When I grow up, I’ll never be late or make excuses or be without answers or feel unsure. I will always be ready.
When I grow up, I will slide down the hallway in my socks and giggle that giggle that comes from a place of exhiliration and cautious joy.
And, most assuredly, when I grow up, someone will have discovered a way to make all my childlike wishes come true.