WOF?!

"I want to be a ..."

"Gynecologist. Gynecologist. Someone please say gynecologist." I whispered to the guest seated next to me. My drink was running dangerously low and I needed some other way to humor myself.

"...pilot when I grow up."

Nuts.

Mike and I attended a silent auction Saturday night. We were watching a video filled with bright young kids telling us what their futures held. While the crowd was ooohing and aaahing, I was laying on the sauce -- and the sarcasm. Sure, it's cute hearing what kids aspire to be. But, wouldn't it be even more interesting to know what they actually become? How many "up-and-coming" doctors remain undeclared majors through their junior year after deciding keg stands were more fun than study group? Roll that videotape, please.

The kids continued, "A veterinarian. A fire fighter. A teacher. President of the United States." You know the parents of the last child were beaming. I wanted to scream out, "No! Become a pro golfer, sleep with every woman within arm's reach, claim sex addiction, stage a comeback and win a multi-million dollar book deal and movie. Now, that's the life!"

The career choices continued. "A mermaid. A princess. A pretzel roller."

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Hold the freak up. Tuition for their school ran $7,000+ a year and sweet little Susie yearned to roll dough? I'm pretty sure her locker was cleaned out Monday morning as she was readied for her immediate internship at Auntie Anne's. Pretzel roller. Susie, when your parents have maxed out their credit cards paying for your tuition, you're supposed to want to roll in the dough.

I've got to give roller girl props, though. She's keepin' it real -- unlike the mermaid and the princess. I have no idea what those ladies were smoking, but get me some of that. Thank god my kids go to public school where they teach you that Auntie Anne's is where you wind up if you don't graduate. On second thought, let me put that theory to the test.

"Doobies, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

"The winner of Final Jeopardy. No, wait. That's too hard. Maybe a Wheel of Fortune contestant or just a wheel spinner!"

"And, what about you Kaila? Let me guess. Vanna?" She stared at me blankly. "I mean, the letter toucher?"

"Yeah, the letter toucher!"

Talk about the pinnacle of bad parenting. Our TV viewing habits dictate the kids' career choices. They want to be football players and cheerleaders in the fall. This winter widened Madan's horizons as he considered the luge and curling while Kaila wondered if figure skaters could use chairs to help them skate. And now, it's game shows. A few weeks ago, Madan openly wept when Jeopardy contestant Vijay Balse's run ended after four shows. I don't know why Madan was so fond of Vijay. Maybe because I told him Vijay was his Nana. Oops. I guess you can take a joke too far.

Madan has since turned his game show addiction to Wheel of Fortune. While he struggles to solve puzzles and yells at contestants for throwing money at vowels, I teach Kaila how to walk in heels and point to letters. I figure Vanna's botox is going to give at some point and Kaila would make a great replacement. I just hope Vanna keeps up with the injections. We're still a little vertically and alphabetically challenged.

As for me, I'm going to be a Wheel Watcher when I grow up.