I've finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.
Not an artist, like I wanted to be as a kid.1
Not an actuary, like I briefly considered in high school.2
Not a computer animator, like I yearned to be into my early 20s.3
Not a web designer, like I have been the past 10+ years.4
Not even a novelist, which I'm still striving to be today.5
No, what I want to be when I grow up is a dad.
I'll be getting my wish soon enough; my son is due in one month. Many people have told me I'll be a great dad, and I believe them. I'm going to be a wonderful father.
Now all I have to do is grow up.
1 I figured out early on I'd never be willing to sell anything I made unless I disliked how it turned out. To date, I've only parted with pieces as gifts. No money has ever exchanged hands.
2 And I mean briefly.
3 It's just as well. That industry never really caught on anyway.
4 Don't worry, Maureen. I'm not quitting. Yet.
5 Although I'm doing a piss-poor job of it. Since the beginning of last year I've now written 127 blog posts, but only 1½ chapters in my novel. (Also, eight short stories, but that hardly excuses the depressingly low chapter count.)