Here's To Never Growing Up
When I was in fourth grade, my favorite dinner table topic was “my future.” To the dismay of my older brother, I was obsessed with talking about every aspect of my assuredly–glorious life—my lucrative career as an ice cream truck driver, my husband, my kids, my dogs and my miniature pot–bellied pig. If the ice cream truck thing didn’t work out, I could always just open a bakery (still the plan). Any residual indecision could easily be resolved, of course, with the game MASH, which seemed to be the authority on the future anyway.