When I was little I wanted to be an astronomer.  I was pretty into constellations and the moons and the planets.  I remember telling my grandma I didn't really want to be an astronaut unless NASA changed their little outfits to purple.  That was my one condition, you can not have my 10 year old shoebox planetarium expertise unless I get to wear a puffy purple suit.  This all came back to mind as Griffin was studying for his Space Unit test.  It was apparently funny to him that planets that were planets when I was his age aren't planets anymore confirming in his mind the t-rexian age of his mother. 

I am sure all of our parents had dreams of what they wanted us to be.  Of course I have thought about my kids when they grow up wondering what they will be but more than that I think about their personalities and what would fit well with that.  Although there aren't a whole lot of jobs for irrational, fit throwing, screaming people so I have to think futuristically.  (Insert your choice of celebrity references here.)

Cooper told me he wants to be a graffer which translated into English means a photographer.  "Either that or someone that washes off fire, like a fireman or maybe a farmer or something" said he.  So I thought what the heck, I won't be a squelcher of dreams, I'll let him have a shot.  Hopefully his passion will turn into talent at some point, maybe when he stops holding the camera facing himself.  Here are a couple of the 47 pics of the floor, his belly and my ear.

Tomorrow to the dairy farm.  

And where did spellcheck go?