My wife and I differ in opinion on so few things.
She’s not a fan of Meatloaf (the musician, not the delicious meat product), but that’s not a difference of opinion as much as a flaw in her character.
I don’t love many of the traditional Jewish foods that she adores so much, but that’s simply the result of my objectivity on the matter and her lack thereof.
I suspect that we might also disagree on the idea of our daughter becoming a firefighter when she grows up. I took the kids to the fire station’s open house recently, and Clara had the chance to try out some of the responsibilities of a firefighter:
- Fire a stream of high-pressure water at a pretend fire.
- Climb aboard a fire truck and don a helmet.
- Crawl under pretend smoke.
- Stop, drop, and roll.
- Eat doughnuts.
As I watched her do all these things with great enthusiasm, I couldn’t help but think how amazing it would be if Clara decided to become a firefighter when she grew up. I found myself actually wishing for this dream to become a reality.
My little girl, battling fires, responding to false alarms, and saving lives.
I suspect that Elysha would be slightly less supportive of this possible career path. Not nearly as enthusiastic about her little girl battling flames with a hose and a hatchet. Nevertheless, to her credit, I’m also confident that she would never stand in Clara’s way of making her dreams come true, even if that dream included running into fiery buildings to save cats.
I suspect that she has little to fear in this regard. Ever since Clara could speak in sentences, she has told us that when she grows up, she wants to take care of babies and be a mommy.
Not exactly firefighter material. At least not yet.
