This post is purely selfish, since we all know our kids aren't here so we can live vicariously through them, and that ultimately, they have the chance to grow up and become whatever they desire. But like many parents, I can't help but look at my kids without wondering what they'll do for a living one day. So help indulge me for a minute?
J-Jo is a natural born entertainer, she's been singing and dancing almost since day one. Now that the twins are here, she's upped the ante considerably, the world is a stage as far as she's concerned. So if she becomes the next Beyonce, I'd be completely unsurprised.
J-Jo's a sparkle butt, I'm sure Ms. Knowles was too at one point (and now she has the sparkly outfits and the butt to prove it). It's fine, as long as J-Jo doesn't expect me to design all her get-ups, a la Tina Knowles, 'cause I can't sew for jack. And I'd hope she'll consider the booty shaking thing kinda played out by then, so that daddy doesn't decide to kidnap her and pad lock her in her old room. But J-Jo also talks about wanting to become a veterinarian. So who knows?
ZenBaby is the classic, textbook baby who barely cried when we brought her home from the birthing center. So sweet, we thought there must have been some kind of mistake the first week we had her at home (we flinched every time the door bell rang, 'cause we knew it was her real family coming to whisk her back home to Bel Air). Nowadays, while J-Jo and their brother are playing tag all over the house, she's curled up on the couch or in the playroom with a board book. ZenBaby's our quiet, reserved child who I know fifteen years from now will either be off in the corner with
War and Peace or off in her room sulking "What's wrong with those people? Surely, I must be adopted!" Probably some combination of the two. Zen's an observer and a quick study, I wouldn't be surprised if she became a novelist like her daddy. Or a judge.
And then, there's our boy. At eighteen months, L-Boogie barely says more than three words, but can sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star", "Elmo's Song" and floored us over the holidays with his own rendition of "Jingle Bells". Constantly, MJ and I are glancing over at eachother as if to say "the boy can barely talk, but he can
sing?" I really wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be a musician. Especially with his middle name, Thelonious. He's got the coolness of a jazz cat, but the smile of a politician, which strangers in the supermarket have stopped me to comment on. Better a politician than a used car salesman I suppose. I'd be so proud if he ended up following the lead of Deval Patrick, the first black elected governor of Masssachusetts who was
sworn into office this morning, placing his hand on the Holy Bible that had been given to John Quincy Adams, by slaves from the
Amistad.
Governor Patrick's speech had me all choked up today:
''I am descended from people once forbidden their most basic and fundamental freedoms, a people desperate for hope and willing to fight for it -- and so are you,'' Patrick told the crowd. ''This commonwealth, and nation modeled on it, is at its best when we show that we understand a faith in what's possible and willingness to work for it.
''As an American, I am an optimist, but not a foolish one. I see clearly the challenges before us.''
If I was his mama, that inauguration would have been flooded with my tears. I'm talking life jackets and search parties, people. But that's not where it stops. My son's gotta crawl before he can walk, right? So let me just be completely honest and put it out there that I really wouldn't mind if L-Boogie became the next
Barack Obama.
More than anything, most of us basically want our children to be happy, positive, productive people who care about making a difference in this world. That's not too much to ask.
But strictly on the employment tip – based on their current personalities – what do you see your kids doing in 2050?
Mr. J was at a convention in Manhattan on Friday and so of course I had to send him out of his way to pick up something that can't be found up here in the boonies where we live. Like black hair products. This man must really love me, because trekking to Sephora in the middle of the circus that is also called Times Square (where we both coincidentally once worked) is not exactly how he'd like to spend his time while visiting the city. Especially in 7 degree weather. I'm so grateful he agreed to stop off and picked up a jar of Carol's Daughter's Mimosa Hair Honey. That Brad Pitt might know something about black hair after all - this stuff works magic on our ZenBaby's hair, just like he claimed it did for his Zahara. 
